Roswell Fanatics

Ellie:

That guy still gives me the creeps. Especially now with that last name? Creepy. I don't know what to think of that whole situation, it just leaves me on edge.

Well, it's supposed to.

Ah ... the return of Michael the artist. I likey!

I saw on the This and That thread that you didn't like that he wasn't sketching Maria, so I had a feeling this would make you happy.

Rodney:

Hahaha I beat Lelia!! I'm on top of her

That just sounds really dirty when you say it.

I also think she's going to push him till he's not even going to want to have sex with her.......as hard as it is for me to understand that.

Yes, as hard as that is for you to understand. God, every time I look at your icon, all I see is boob-age.

BB:

Oh please, have a serious talk. Except, evidence suggests it wouldn't be a serious talk it would be Tess refussing to listen to Kyle's concerns and railroading him into giving her what she wants when he clearly, clearly is having major doubts. She's pissing me off right now.

I feel kind of bad about this, because I think Tess was unanimously one of the most well-liked characters at the end of 521, and now she's pissing people off. But . . . well, she has to in order for me to tell the story I want to tell.

I love, love, love the idea of Sex Sells. Kyle may actually just be a marketing genius.

The Sex Sells auction is going to be quite eventful.

Novy:

That chat Maria and Alex had was interesting. Appearance verses reality makes for some fascinating contradictions.

I don't think Maria would feel quite so sorry for Alex if she knew the extent of his bad parenting. She views him as the victim . . . which I don't really think he is.

Surprise, surprise I voted for Isabel.

Me, too.

Guel:

could this guy coming to the gallery be some relative? maybe marias father?

A few people have proposed this theory, and while I think it's a great one, it's not the right one. Augustus Monet has no pre-existing connections to any of the established characters.

Leila:

I'll be away for a few days and I'll miss Wednesday's update.

Wherever you're going, I hope you have fun!

I'm surprised that Isabel didn't need to show more skin to get the job. It was easy for her to achieve her goal.

She's just so good at what she does. Now it's just a matter of maintaining this job, because we all know Isabel has a problem holding onto a good thing when she has it.

Though I'm wondering what Isabel will do when she finds out that Alex and Maria talk to each other.

Gosh, I'm trying to think back and remember. I'm not sure if she will find out.

Krista: Girl, you snuck that comment in two minutes before I was about to post.


Thanks for the feedback.

I don't even know how to describe today's update. I've lovingly decided to call it a "plate full of crazy." Because that's basically what it is. You get one adorable scene at the beginning, and then just . . . crazy.

Again, I'm coming by with music. Today it's "Enjoy the Silence" by Anberlin, which is a cover of a song by Depeche Mode. I actually like Anberlin's version better, though they're both good. This is probably one of my favorite songs right now. Click on when you see it to give it a listen if you'd like.









Part 31








Being wrapped up in Michael’s arms had to be the best feeling in the world. He wasn’t a super-huge guy, but he was big enough to make her feel like a tiny butterfly when she lay next to him, and he was her cocoon.

Oh god, she thought, I’m waxing poetic. That meant the orgasm hadn’t quite worn off yet.

She nuzzled her face against his chest as he rubbed her bare back and shoulders. “I think Tess and Kyle are on different wavelengths,” she said.

“This is what you think about after we have sex, Tess and Kyle?”

“Well, at least I wasn’t thinking about them during,” she joked. “Besides, sex and babies . . . it relates.”

“True,” he acknowledged. “Does, uh . . . does their whole trying to have a baby thing make you wanna have another baby?”

That question took her a little by surprise. She moved backward slightly so she could look at him. “Well, yeah.” They’d always said they would have more kids. “Not tomorrow, obviously, but someday. Post-graduation, post-job attainment. Post-marriage would be nice.”

He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “How many kids do you think we’ll end up with?”

“I don’t know.” It was impossible to predict.

“Well, how many do you wanna have?”

“How many do you wanna have?”

“I asked you first.”

“Doesn’t matter. First is the new second.”

He laughed. “What? Who talks like that?”

Since neither of them seemed willing to offer the first answer, Maria quickly devised a solution. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do: I’ll count to three and we’ll both blurt out at the same time how many kids we wanna have.”

“How many more kids or how many kids total?”

“How many more—no, how many total,” she decided. “How many total kids we wanna have. Okay? On one, two . . . three!” She fell silent, as did he. They both laughed. “Okay, now we have to do it for real this time, okay?” she said.

“Alright.”

“One . . . two . . .” She drew it out for a long time. “Three!”

“Eight,” he blurted at the same time she said, “Four.” They both looked at each other incredulously.

“Eight?” she screeched. “You want me to pop out eight kids?” That wouldn’t have been so bad had they actually popped out.

“That’s only six more than we have now,” he pointed out.

“Only? Oh, spoken by a true man, I’ll tell you.”

“Don’t you wanna have a big family?”

“Yeah, but four kids would be big enough. Plus you and me and Frank. I’d be halfway there already. That sounds nice.”

“What about seven?” he proposed.

“Five.” She was willing to increase it to five, but no more.

“Six?”

“Five.”

“Six?” he kept on.

“Five. Michael! What the hell? You’re an only child. You’re not supposed to want a huge family.”

“I’m a rebel like that.”

She propped herself up on her elbow as she entered rant-mode. “Do you want me to be fat? Because there’s only so much baby weight a girl can lose.”

“More to love.”

“Do you wanna own a minivan? Because that’s what we’ll be driving. I’m serious. Do you wanna go into debt sending them to college? ‘Cause it’ll happen.”

“Child prodigies. Scholarships.”

“Michael.”

“Fine, we don’t have to have eight kids.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. “Although considering our track record, I’m not so sure we’ll have any control over it.”

She settled back down in the bed and snuggled up to his chest again. She coiled her legs around his beneath the covers and breathed in his scent. Mmm. She was calm again.

“But the thing is, we can’t stop until we have a boy,” he said. “You know?”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

“‘Cause I wanna have a son and teach him how to be a good man.”

“We can always use more of those in the world.” She had no doubt that Michael would teach his son not only how to be a good man, but how to be a great man. Because that’s what he was and that’s what his father was. Traits like that got passed down the family line. “What would we name him?” she asked. “Michael, Jr. would get so confusing.”

“Hmm, Marcus?” he offered.

“No, then people would call him Mark.” She’d dated a Mark in high school, and he was such a dumb-ass that he was still in high school as far as anyone knew. “Matthew?” she said. “I can handle Matt a lot better than Mark.”

“Matthew,” he said slowly. “I like it. Matthew Guerin. That’ll be his name, unless we think of something we like more. Matthew.”

“What about girls’ names?”

“Megan, Melanie . . .”

“I like Megan. Not Melanie. I had a Barbie named Melanie when I was little, and she was a slut.”

He laughed. “Okay. How about Molly?”

“Cute. Mandy?”

“Uh, not so much. Isabel’s middle name’s Amanda.”

“Oh. Then hell to the no.” The last thing they needed was another minute connection to that bitch.

“Plus, we’d just be setting her up for a lifetime of Barry Manilow jokes,” he pointed out.

“Huh, true,” she agreed. “What about Mira? Or Mahalia. Are those too exotic?”

“What’s Mahalia mean?” he asked.

“I think it means affection. But I think it’s too exotic.”

“Mira’s cool, though. What’d we do with that baby name book?”

“Oh, it’s around here somewhere.” She slipped one arm underneath him and draped one over his midsection, hugging him tightly. “I’m too lazy and comfy to look for it.”

“Well, we’ve got ideas.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Ooh, I’ve got another one,” she announced. “You know how some people are naming girls Michael nowadays? Well, I don’t like that. But what if we named the next little girl Michaela? It’s the female form of your name.”

“Yeah, that’d be cool. I’d like that. Let’s do that.”

“Okay, Michaela Guerin. But I repeat, post-graduation, post-job attainment, post-marriage. Got it?”

His hands traveled up and down her spine. “Got it.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel had been on her way to Billy’s when she got the phone call from Arthur Miller’s temporary personal secretary. The temporary secretary told her she was the new personal secretary. Full-time, decent starting pay, and great health benefits. Fuck yes.

Billy was the first person she told the good news to. He kissed her a lot, and then they started getting drunk. Mostly beer, a little whiskey. The more Isabel drank, the happier she became. She started bouncing around the living room, singing at the top of her lungs, “I got a jo-ob! I got a jo-ob!” She wasn’t sure why she split the word into two syllables like that, but it was catchy. She bounced on the squeaky couch cushions, and when she tried to jump over the back of it, she crash-landed on the floor. It didn’t hurt, though, so she stood right back up and kept shouting. “Billy! I got a job!”

He sat on the stairs, watching her and smoking a cigarette. “I heard.”

“And you helped me.” She downed the rest of the beer in her hand, then said, “Take that, deadbeat, husband!” and threw the bottle at the wall. It broke.

“Yeah!” Billy exclaimed.

“You know what? We should celebrate.” She was going a mile a minute, couldn’t slow down.

“We are celebrating,” he pointed out.

“No, I mean the getting hammered is great and all, but we should really do something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, like stick it to the people who tried to hold me down.” There were, after all, so many of them.

“Alex?”

“No, he’s too easy of a target. Max! Yeah, let’s stick it to Max.” In that moment, that sounded like the most fun thing in the world. “All my life he’s told me I’ll never be more than a woman. Well, in your face, Max. In your ugly face, ‘cause now I have a job and you’re broke ass poor!” She cackled in delight. What could be more wonderful? “And let’s stick it to Liz while we’re at it ‘cause she’s a bi-itch!”

“What do you wanna do?” Billy asked.

“Something wrong and . . . outrageous.” Even though she felt light-headed, she was simultaneously raring to go. God, had that been one of Billy’s drug-laced beers? Or was the new job simply that good? Whatever. She didn’t care.

Billy went upstairs for a minute and told her to wait downstairs. When he came back down, he was carrying two bottles of spray paint in his hands. Isabel grinned and licked her lips. Perfect.

( )

By the time they had driven over to Max and Liz’s house, Isabel was on the edge of her seat, just dying to wreak some havoc. They parked across the street and she got out of the car, her eyes roaming over the growing weeds out front. Ha, Max had probably had to fire his gardener. Served him right, the jackass.

“Well, here we are,” she announced. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah.” Billy looked at the mansion in awe.

“But not for long.” Isabel squealed and darted across the street. Billy followed her up the giant staircase to the elevated porch and said, “They ain’t home, right?”

“No, they’re out house-hunting.” That was what he’d told Garret on the phone last night. She’d been listening in. You could never do too much listening.

“How you plan on getting in?”

She lifted a ring of keys out of her purse and held up the longest brass one. “I stole Liz’s keys once and made a copy for an occasion just like this.” She inserted the key into the door and smiled when she heard it click unlocked. “Let’s vandalize.”

She opened the glass double doors and walked inside, swaying her hips sultrily from side to side. Billy alternated looking at her and at the house. It didn’t look half as nice now that most of the furniture was gone. It was just ceiling and walls, but at the same time, so much more than that. It was a symbol of what she should have had.

“Damn,” Billy swore, impressed.

She dropped her purse on the floor, looped her arms around his neck, and plastered her mouth to his. Their tongues mingled, and his hands clawed at her sides, scrunching up her shirt. He had a rock-hard erection. She felt so hot.

She undid his shirt and left it hanging open, noticing a new tattoo on his left side: her name written vertically. Each letter was a snake. She tossed her head back and laughed, then stepped away from him and slid her denim skirt down over her hips. For some reason she didn’t quite understand, she wanted to run around this house in her panties.

Oh, she was deliciously drunk.

When she bent down to take the spray paint cans out of her purse, Billy came up behind her, grabbed her hips, and rubbed his cock against her from behind. Even though clothing was in the way, it felt so good. He really knew her, knew what she liked.

That was a little scary.

She turned around, nibbled on his ear, and whispered dirty words to him. She handed him the red spray paint can, keeping the blue one for herself, and then ran into the living room. Shake well before using. She jiggled the can in her hand and then let the paint fly.

She sprayed a huge S on the wall, moving her hips in the same lettered shape.

Billy put a huge red smiley face on the back of the white couch.

L.

They danced as much as they vandalized.

U.

Isabel felt so alive.

T.

SLUT. That was what Liz was. She skipped over to the adjacent wall and spray-painted Max’s name, then crossed it out with an X. She did the same with Alex’s name and her father’s name. Then she went to the last blank wall and wrote Michael’s name, drawing a heart around it.

In the kitchen, Billy hopped up on the marble countertop and danced from one side all the way to the very edge of the other side. He sprayed huge red dots on the ceiling and stole a beer out of the refrigerator.

Isabel dropped her spray paint and let it roll away. She danced around slowly in a circle and pulled her shirt off over her head. She ran her hands through her hair and let the sweat trickle down her skin. Max and Liz would know she’d done this, but she didn’t care. In that moment, she just didn’t care about getting caught. She felt invincible and welcomed it.

She danced up the stairs and Billy followed her. She gave him a show on the way, touching her body and moving her hips in circles. He slid down the staircase, then scrambled to the upstairs hallway. She fell on her way to the master bedroom and rolled around on the floor for a minute, laughing at her clumsiness. Billy lifted her up and set her back on her own two feet, and they tangoed towards the bedroom. Lord only knew what dirty things Max and Liz had done in there, but they were squeaky clean compared to her.

She jumped on the bed like a little kid who’d just found out it was a snow day while Billy took hold of the bedside lamp and threw it against the wall. She worked the canopy posts on the bed like stripper poles, swirling around, arching against them, sandwiching them between her breasts.

Billy salivated over her as he painted the word ‘fuckers’ on the wall. Except he spelled it wrong, so it was ‘fuckes.’ Still funny.

By the time she had dropped down to her knees, though, and was prowling across the mattress like an animal, whipping her hair around, sneaking her hand down between her legs, she had Billy’s full attention. He dropped his paint can and ran towards the bed, pouncing on her. He plunged his tongue into her mouth and pulled down on her bra, allowing her breasts out of their confines. She could feel his bare chest against hers, and she wanted sex. Oh, she wanted it. Right there in her brother’s bed. Her on top. Him on top. Didn’t matter. They were going to put it to each other good, and she was so high on the rush of this vandalism spree that she might not even have to think of Michael to get off.

All thoughts of sex vanished and they both froze when they heard police sirens. Some busybody neighbor had probably reported seeing them go in or hearing noise while they vandalized. Crap.

They both sprang from the bed and ran downstairs. Billy forgot to grab his spray paint can, but it was too late to go back for it. Isabel grabbed hers and her shirt and her shorts on the way out, but it was no use. Max would know she did this. The names on the wall . . .

They bolted outside. Billy launched himself over the porch and Isabel scurried down the stairs. For the first time since they’d shown up there, this seemed like a bad idea. The elation of alcohol wore off, and the feeling of impending doom set in.

They got in the car and Billy floored it, but it was no use. The police car zoomed up right behind them, and Isabel knew fleeing would do more harm than good. They were caught. She got caught behaving badly sometimes.

“Just pull over,” she told him, and he did just that. He shut off the car and raked one hand through his hair.

“Fuck,” he cursed. “This is bad. I already got a record. Now vandalism and DUI? They could put me away for awhile.” He looked at her pleadingly. “Isabel. What do I do?”

He wasn’t her responsibility, yet she felt the need to do something.

When the police officer walked up to their car and tapped on the driver’s side window, Isabel rolled it down, having just switched seats with her partner in crime. Switching seats with Billy would make things a little better for him, a little worse for her. Now she’d be the one facing the DUI.

She glanced at him worriedly, confused by her own actions. She’d never been the type to throw herself in the line of fire before, and she shouldn’t have done it now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jail was an uncomfortable place. Cold, dreary, and hopeless. Isabel wasn’t scared, though. She wasn’t scared of anything. But she had to admit, she was slightly worried. She and Billy had been separated after booking, and she’d ended up in a cell with three other women, two of whom looked like male truckers and one of whom was clearly a prostitute. She was simultaneously relieved and nervous when it was time for her to make her one and only phone call.

“Don’t take too long,” the guard said, escorting her towards the phone.

She picked it up and held it with shaking hands. It struck her that there was nobody she could call, at least not anybody who without a doubt would come to bail her out. Normally she would have called Billy, but since he was locked up, too, that left her two options: her husband or her brother.

She opted to call Max, even though it was his house she’d vandalized. Alex had been standing up to her lately, and she wasn’t sure if he would come through. There was at least a chance with Max. Blood was thicker than water. Or something like that.

When he picked up his phone, his voice was shrill and impatient. “What?”

“Max, it’s me.”

He laughed angrily. “Isabel. Isabel. Fancy you calling. Liz, Isabel’s on the phone.”

She heard Liz shout a few choice words from the background. Clearly they had arrived home and seen the spray paint. “Listen, Max . . .”

“You know, it’s the funniest thing,” he cut her off. “I came home fifteen minutes ago to find my house vandalized. First I thought it was probably an ex-employee, but then I saw the ‘Michael’ with the heart around it and I knew.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Jesus, Isabel, if you’re gonna vandalize something, don’t leave a design that’s so indicatively you. And since ‘fuckers’ is misspelled upstairs, I assume Billy the dumbass was with you. How am I doing so far?”

“Fantastic,” she muttered.

“You were probably smashed,” he went on. “You probably screwed in my bed.”

“No, we didn’t get the chance.”

“And since you’re calling from a number I don’t recognize, you must need me to bail you out of jail.”

She felt powerless asking him for such a favor, so powerless that she couldn’t even ask it out loud. She hated feeling that way.

“What else is new, right?” he said bitterly. “You know, I really need to savor this moment. You’re always saying how you’re so much better than me, yet here you are again, asking me for help. ‘Max, give my husband a job. Max, buy my house. Max, post my bail.’”

“It’s only three-hundred dollars,” she informed him.

“Only? Well, I’m sorry, dear sister. Somebody told a magazine I’m a rapist, and now I have no money to my name. Find somebody else to clean up your mess.”

“Max!” She stared at the phone in disbelief after her hung up. He really wasn’t coming. He had bailed out on bail. She was on her own.

“Alright, back to your cell,” the guard said, taking the phone away from her. He grabbed hold of her wrists and practically yanked her back to her confinement and tossed her back inside. There was a lawsuit in his rough treatment somewhere. She was sure of it.

“You got a pretty mouth,” he seethed as he locked her in.

She glared at him. Hell yeah she had a pretty mouth, but she wasn’t going to use it on him.

She gripped the bars tightly once he was gone, so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She refused to look as defeated as her cell mates. Somebody would come for her. Somebody had to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alex dumped the frozen broccoli into a pot of boiling water atop the stove. Garret stood beside him, complaining.

“I don’t like broccoli.”

“Too bad, because that’s what you’re getting.” It suddenly struck him that he didn’t know what his son’s favorite food was, and he felt alarmed. How could he not know something like that?

“Where’s Mommy?” Garret asked. Before Alex could tell him he didn’t know, Garret exclaimed, “Uncle Max!” and ran towards the front door. Max had let himself inside.

“Hey, stud.” He hoisted his nephew up in his arms. “How are you?”

“Broccoli.” Garret made a disgusted face and stuck his tongue out. “Yuck.”

“Yeah, I agree.” Max cast a sideways glance in Alex, and Alex pretended to be all interested in watching the broccoli boil.

“Listen, I need to talk to your dad. Why don’t you go upstairs and I’ll be up to play with you in a minute.”

Garret nodded excitedly, and Max set him down. He ran upstairs, and Alex kept his voice low when he asked, “What the hell are you doing here, Max?” Didn’t he understand that he wasn’t welcome there anymore?

“I thought you’d wanna know your wife’s in jail.”

He nearly stumbled backward. “What?”

Max shrugged as though this were a commonplace or anticipated event. “She vandalized my house. Cop said she was drunk driving, too. So you need to go bail her out. Or leave her in there. I really don’t care.”

Alex glanced back at the boiling pot. It was about to start boiling over. Isabel was a real piece of work. She accused him of being a drunk and then she went out and did the same thing, plus some? People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.

“Go,” Max said. “I’ll stay with the kid until you get back.”

Part of him—a big part of him—wanted to not run to Isabel’s rescue. She’d done nothing to deserve it. But she was his wife, and he felt obligated. So he went and hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When the guard came back down the cell corridor and bellowed, “Isabel Whitman!” Isabel sat straight up on her cot. “Evans-Whitman,” she corrected.

The guard rolled his eyes and unlocked the cell. “You’re free to go.”

“What? Max came through?” Her entire body shook with relief. “Oh, thank God.” She was not cut out for jail. Too confining, to demeaning.

“Come back soon.” The guard leered at her as she walked away. She felt like kneeing him in the nuts for that, but then she’d end up back in the slammer.

A second guard escorted her out into the police station. When she saw Billy and Lorenzo waiting for her, she was confused. Where was Max?

“He bailed me out,” Billy explained, motioning towards Lorenzo, “and I wasn’t gonna leave you here. Besides, it was the least I could do after you--”

“Shh,” Isabel hushed him. They were standing in a room full of cops. They really didn’t need to reveal who had really been driving the car in this place of all places. “Thanks,” she said. Billy always came through for her. He was surprising like that.

“So you’re an ex-con now, huh?” Lorenzo grinned and licked his lips. “That just makes you even hotter.”

“I really just wanna get out of here,” she said. “Can we go?”

“Yeah.” Billy put his arm around her shoulders, and they left the police station with Lorenzo. When they walked out to the parking lot, Isabel noticed that the sun was setting. She’d wasted half her day sitting in that cell.

“Tell her what you told me, man,” Billy said to Lorenzo.

“Right.” Lorenzo cleared his throat. “If you can convince your brother to not press charges, you could get outta this with a simple DUI. And they’ll just fine you for that, maybe suspend your license for awhile, make you go to some classes. No big deal.”

“So you gotta convince Max.” Billy rubbed her shoulder.

“Easier said than done,” she grumbled. “He wouldn’t even bail me out.”

“You should’ve called me.” Lorenzo tilted his head back to stare at her ass. “No way am I gonna leave a rump like that behind bars.”

Isabel laughed a little but stopped at once when she saw her husband making his way through the parking lot. “Alex?” She shrugged Billy’s arm off and stepped away from him. “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

“What’s it look like?” He held up a wad of cash that looked as though it were straight out of the ATM. “Max told me what you did. I came to bail you out.”

“Oh, well . . . good news, you don’t have to.” She felt completely and utterly flustered. Alex and Billy were standing face to face. She was standing in between them. She didn’t know what to say. “Uh, this man already did. Alex, this is . . . Bobby,” she lied, motioning towards Billy. “His son goes to preschool with Garret so . . . that’s how we know each other.” That was feasible, right? Yeah, that was feasible. “And this is Larry. His son also . . . goes there.” A little too much stuttering, but hopefully Alex would buy it.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Larry,” Lorenzo proclaimed, extending his hand.

Alex shook it carefully, almost as though he were afraid of contracting some disease from him. Which probably wasn’t an irrational fear.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, Alex,” Billy said. He was sweating like a maniac all of a sudden, and his hand was trembling as he held it out.

Alex didn’t shake Billy’s hand. “Let’s go,” he told Isabel, turning and heading back through the parking lot.

She breathed in sharply and followed him. That had been a close call.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They didn’t speak the whole ride home. Alex kept his eyes locked on the road, and Isabel kept her eyes locked on Alex. She hoped he hadn’t seen Billy’s arm around here. He wasn’t that observant, was he?

Max greeted them at the bottom of the stairs when they walked in the front door. “He wanted to eat in his room, so I let him,” he said.

“Great parenting, Max,” she muttered sarcastically.

“Well, I’m not his parent, now am I?”

“Would you two shut up?” Alex practically begged.

“I’ll be heading home now,” Max announced, slipping on his jacket. “To my vandalized house. That’s gonna look great when buyers come to look at it.” He left it at that and walked out.

Isabel shook her head and rolled her eyes. “He’s such a cry-baby.”

“He has every reason to be pissed at you right now,” Alex said. “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, okay? You should know a lot about that.” Hell, Alex had practically made a career out of bad choices.

“Don’t try to turn this back on me,” he warned. “You screwed up. You did a stupid thing. And then the icing on the cake is the DUI.”

“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “What’s your DUI count these days? Five? Six?”

“This is gonna be in all the papers, on all the news,” he fretted. “Your son’s gonna have to deal with this.”

“Well, he deals with you on a daily basis. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Would you stop?” he barked. “Stop and take some responsibility for what you did.”

“I’ll tell you what I did: I got a job,” she informed him. “I got a job. BAE Advertising. I’m Arthur Miller’s new secretary. He’s the A in BAE, in case you were wondering. It’s a good job. Pay starts at thirty-five thousand, and today I was celebrating. That’s all.”

“Celebrating,” he echoed. “By committing a crime?!”

“You don’t know what it’s like to play the housewife role for four years, okay? To keep everything bottled up inside, to devote your entire life to your child and your husband.”

“Since when are you devoted to me?” he roared. “Or to Garret, for that matter? We both know who you’re devoted to.”

“Don’t bring Michael into this.”

“I’m not talking about him.” Alex looked down at his feet and dug the toe of his shoe into the carpet. “You know who I’m talking about.”

“Who?” The only other person she even cared about at all besides Michael and her son was . . .

Oh, no.

“Billy,” he mumbled. “Or should I say Bobby?”

Her entire body shut down for a moment, and she couldn’t admit it or deny it. All she could do was stand there.

“Don’t play dumb,” he snapped. “I know. I know you’ve been cheating on me for a year now. I know whenever you ‘run errands,’ you’re fucking him. I know he probably helped you vandalize that house today, because he’s not only your boyfriend, he’s your best friend. You’re not as secretive as you think you are.”

Is he my best friend? She didn’t even have time to contemplate it. She was too busy trying to figure out how Alex knew about all this. There was only one person who had reason to disclose everything. “Max told you.”

“No, he—Max knows?” Alex threw his hands up in the air. “Son of a bitch.”

“Then how did you find out?”

“I got suspicious six months ago, so I hired the cheapest private investigator I could find,” he revealed. “He got it all: cell phone records, background information on Billy, even pictures of the two of you together. Here, you wanna see?” He made his way into the kitchen and reached up to the top left-hand cabinet. He’d had a lock on that cabinet for awhile now, claiming that there were important documents leftover from Whitman Software Development up there, but when he put in the code to unlock it, he took out a box full of black and white photographs. “Here you go,” he said, throwing them at her. “Real flattering.”

She caught a handful of them and saw that they were all snapshots of her and Billy. In one of them, they were dancing together at Grunge. In another, he was strumming his guitar for her in the living room. And in one particularly disturbing one, she was riding him in his bed. There were dozens and dozens, maybe even hundreds, of photos. She was semi-horrified that she hadn’t had a clue about this.

“I can’t believe you spied on me.”

“I can’t believe you cheated on me,” he shot back. “Actually, I can. You’re a bitch.”

She dropped the pictures back into the box. “You’re just jealous.”

“Of Billy?” He huffed. “Of a drug-addicted wannabe musician? ‘Cause that’s what he is. Am I right?”

He was.

“And I don’t know who that ‘Larry’ guy was, but you probably fucked him, too.”

There was no need to tell him about that. “I’m not a slut.”

“Billy Darden.” Alex went over to the refrigerator and took out a beer. “At the age of eighteen, he was accused of sexually assaulting a fifteen year old girl, but it was settled outside of court, so he got away with it. At twenty, he was busted for selling drugs, and he’s been busted for some kind of illegal possession every year after that. He graduated college with a solid D average and has two Radiohead covers on YouTube, both with only two-hundred views and more negative comments than positive ones.”

That private investigator definitely had done his job. All those things were true.

“If you’re looking for the next Michael Guerin, he’s not it.”

She wasn’t looking for the next Michael. There was only one Michael. “It’s not that serious,” she told him. “He’s just a guy I fuck instead of fucking you.”

“See, I don’t get this.” Alex unscrewed the lid to his beer. “You hate men, yet you whore yourself out without even hesitating. You say you’re so capable, but you probably went down on your boss to get that job.” He brought the bottle up to his lips and chugged.

“I got that job because I am capable.” She left out the part about the cleavage. “And you just watch how far I’ll move up at this company. Glass ceiling be damned.”

“Would you shut up?” he bellowed. “God, I’m so sick of hearing you talk!”

“I’m so sick of watching you drink!” she shouted back.

“I’m sick of being married to you!”

“I wish you weren’t.” The day she’d walked down that aisle towards him had been the biggest letdown of her life. “I wish you’d never gotten me pregnant. I wish I’d never given birth to your son!”

Alex opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, but he glanced sideways, and when Isabel turned to see what he was looking at, she saw Garret standing on the second to bottom stair, clutching a blanket in his hand and blinking back tears in his eyes. Oh god, how long had he been listening?

“Garret . . .” she tried.

He turned and ran back upstairs. Isabel and Alex stood in silence, the argument still reverberating through the room. Their eyes met, and for once, they agreed on something: They hated themselves. They hated themselves for hurting their son.









TBC . . .

-April

Here we go, the last update before I embark on my summer vacation. Like I said in my note before, I promise to update this as much as I can this summer, which will be about two times a week on average, although some weeks it may be just once. Case in point, next week. Expect an update probably on Tuesday only.

I really don't like this not being able to update every-other-day thing. Oh, well. You guys are on page 391 already, and I've only got this thing written up until page 812, so I suppose I'll have more time to write it now, keep you guys from catching up with me so that when I come back from summer vacay, I'll be able to update really frequently again.


Ellie:

So, does that mean we'll be seeing more of Michael's artistic side in the future? And ... question? Has he drawn/painted a pregnant Maria? Just curious ...

Sure, Michael's making more artwork in this part. I'm sure he's drawn or painted pregnant Maria a lot.

Not shocking either ... she didn't think her plan thru and got caught. Oh when will she ever learn?

Every time, she makes the same mistakes with her plans. She gets caught up in the emotion of it all, in whatever she's feeling at the time, and she forgets to use her otherwise very intelligent brain.

Krista:

Are Michael and Maria purposely only choosing M names? Or are they unaware of their own bias?

I think they're purposefully choosing M names.

I like the name Merlina. It's original.

BB:

I don't think I've ever wanted a child to be kidnapped and raised by somebody else before but I'm keeping my fingers crossed for Garrett.

I know, right? It's so sad. This poor kid.

Oh Alex! The irony of him lecturing anybody, even Isabel, on responsibility is absurd and twisted.

He needs to listen to his own lectures. But like everyone in the Evans/Whitman family, he finds it easier to blame others than to accept any blame himself for the shitiness of his life.

Rodney:

Michael mentioned Isabel's name while laying naked in bed with Maria?! I'm not even married and I KNOW better than that.

Well, at least he didn't mention it in a sexy way!

PS April.....I'm sorry if you don't like my new avator but I LOVE it!

I like it, I just automatically look at the side-boob, which I know is why you picked it.

Novy:

Wow! Only Isabel. I bet she loses that job on top of it too.

Maybe . . . maybe not.

what if some how both Alex and Isabel lost custody. What would happen to Garrett? He's kind of old perhaps he would just get bounced around foster care knowing his luck.

Garret's entire future is very uncertain right now. It's scary, because neither Alex nor Isabel is really a fit parent, so they probably both should lose custody of him; but then like you said, he really might get bounced around from one foster care home to the next because he's not a baby anymore, he's not at that easily-adoptable age anymore. I guess he always has Max, but having lost all his money, Max can't exactly support a kid anymore. It's just a bad, bad situation, isn't it? And this poor kid's caught in the middle of it. "The poor dear" as you would say.

dreambeliever:

Funny how Isabel thought she was so smart sneaking around with Billy when in reality both Alex and Max knew. Maybe she'll soon realize she isn't as smart as she thinks she is.

Infidelity is not her strong point, is it? Her affair wasn't so much an affair as much as it was common knowledge.

lilah:

Maria and Michael are soo cute...except Michael wanting 8 kids, poor Maria...I'll just say...OW!!!!

Ow indeed!

Good thing Alex didn't have to bail Isabel out, maybe he can use that money to get Garrett a psychologist.

The poor kid's probably gonna need one someday.

Leila:

I hope that Michael and Maria can enjoy the closiness they have for a long time because I doubt it'll stay this way. Especially with Isabel's obsession and Billy's obsession or wanna-be love for Isabel, it might start to cause havoc for M&M.

Michael and Maria are relatively drama-free right now compared to the other couples. That won't last forever, of course, because I have to give them some drama.

I don't understand why Michael or Maria don't talk the Valenti's about the baby issue. As friends I would expect them to say something. Michael could encourage Kyle to tell Tess that he isn't ready and that he doesn't want to become a father out of obligation. Maria could also tell Tess the same. It's frustrating to see how easily it is to solve a problem but no one acts.

I think right now Michael and Maria are trying to stay out of it and let them figure it out themselves, but in later parts, they might intervene a bit more.

She didn't know what to do because her affair was one of the few things she had control over and she lost it.

Exactly! And we all know Isabel hates to lose control of a situation. She hates getting caught in a lie.

In an earlier part you mentioned that Alex knew where Isabel was when Max and Liz were staying with him at home (it was before the wedding...I think). And I assumed that Alex already knew about the affair but I wasn't sure.

Yep, that was a subtle hint.

Christina:

I love talking baby names! It's fun. I also think it's funny how when I was younger I used to love certain names and be so sure I'd name my future children them. Now they're different. And I'm sure when I actually have children, they'll be different, too.

Yeah, they do change, don't they? I used to want to have a daughter and name her Aurora. Now, not so much.

For her to call Liz a slut? Isabel cheated on Michael with Alex, purely for money. And she's cheating on Alex with Billy for... uh... slumming it up.

Yeah, Isabel's the sluttiest person in this fic, for sure. Very hypocritical.

For once, I liked Alex for standing up for himself. I loved seeing him give Isabel the verbal tongue-lashing that she so rightly deserved, and even cheered for him along the way.

I call this the 521-Max effect. In 521, people started to like Max a little more when he stood up to Isabel. Now people are starting to like Alex a little more now that he's proven he can stand up to Isabel. Don't expect it to last, though. As long as Alex is drowning his sorrows, there isn't much hope for him.

Alex is too much of a pity-me, soon-to-be alcoholic.

I think he's already there on the "alcoholic" part, unfortunately.


Thank you for the feedback! I love all of you and I'll miss being here so frequently this summer, but I'll pop in whenever I can.

I think the 5 most common questions I've been asked up through these 32 parts are:

1. Who is the little girl with Max in the promo videos?
2. Why is Tess's hair black in the promo videos?
3. What on earth are you going to do to Michael and Maria?
4. Is Liz going to cheat on Max?
5. Who is that Augustus guy?

And I promise that, as the story goes on, those questions will get answered. So stick with it. I'm really excited for some of the twists and turns I have in store.









Part 32








Michael had just finished printing out the labels for all the paintings they planned to auction off at Sex Sells when Maria came by for her usual between-classes break. “Ah, there’s my girl,” he said. “I want you to take a look at something.” He went back to his office to get a large painting he’d just finished the other night. He carried it out and showed it to her. “What do you think?”

“Wow,” she said. “How intimate.” It was a painting of a male and female body wrapped around each other, with her in his lap and both of them facing each other. Arms and legs, mostly, no faces.

“Did you paint that?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“So is that supposed to be us?”

“Yeah, it’s called, ‘The Conception of Miley.’”

She laughed. “Is that for the auction?”

“Yep. Don’t worry, whoever buys it won’t know it’s us. Probably.”

“That’s just a little disturbing, but since it’s art, I’ll go with it.” She tossed her purse down on the counter and set her backpack on the floor. “You should make a ‘Conception of Macy’ one.”

“I’m going to.” He was going to have to paint them in the missionary position for that one if he wanted to be completely factual. Although it might be a better-looking painting with her on top.

“Wanna hear about my day?” she asked.

He set the painting behind the counter. “Yeah, how’s it going?”

“Not so good,” she replied. “I met with my advisor. Turns out I am gonna get stuck student teaching an upper elementary class. And it gets worse. See, I thought when you majored in Elementary Education, you could get specifically endorsed for one grade level. But no, not at this school. They certify you for all elementary grades because they want to ‘maximize your job potential.’”

“How inconsiderate of them,” he said sarcastically.

“So when I say I’m going to be a kindergarten teacher, what I’m really saying is I want to be a kindergarten teacher and probably won’t be because my career is bound to be as screwed up as my college experience.”

He slid across the counter to stand right next to her. “You could teach fifth grade.”

“Nuh-uh. Kindergarten’s all about being nurturing and motherly, which I can handle, but in fifth grade you actually have to know stuff.”

“You know stuff.”

“No, I don’t. Quiz me.”

“What’s seven times seven?”

“See, I don’t know!”

“Well, math’s always been your weak point,” he reminded her.

“What is it, forty-six?”

“Forty-nine.”

She stomped her foot and whined.

“Okay, don’t get discouraged.” He quickly thought of another elementary-level question. “What’s an exoskeleton?”

She shrugged exaggerated. “Beats me.”

“What part of speech is the word is?”

“A verb?”

“Yes, what kind of verb?”

She stared at him helplessly. “An adverb?”

He laughed a little. “No. What’s the fifth planet from the sun?”

“Michael! See, you’ve proven my point.”

“You’ll be fine,” he assured her. “You’re smarter than you think.”

“Not book smart.” She groaned in distress and leaned back against the counter, sinking down onto the floor. “Me and education just don’t mix.”

He sat down beside her and quietly corrected, “Education and I.”

“I can’t even believe I decided to be a teacher. I should’ve stuck with sex-therapist.”

He chuckled. “Teaching’s one of the most stable professions, though. And it’ll be fun. You could end up coaching a little girls’ cheerleading squad or something.”

“Please,” she grunted. “Dance team.” She laughed at the thought. “Marty could choreograph the routines.”

“He’d love that.” Michael was actually ashamed to admit that Marty was one of the best dancers he knew.

“Hey, did I ever tell you about his new boyfriend?” Her face lit up, and he could tell that her student teaching worries were dissolved for at least a little while.

“No. He has a new boyfriend? Good for him.”

“His name’s Jimmy. Or James. I don’t know. He’s Max’s former personal assistant.”

“Huh.” That . . . didn’t sound good.

“Yeah, but apparently he’s really sweet, so . . . go figure.”

He nodded. He was just happy that Marty had met someone again. He knew how guilty Maria felt about his and Francis’s breakup. She never really talked about it, but he knew. “Hey, speaking of Max . . .” he segued.

“Let’s not.”

“No, you’re gonna wanna read this.” He reached up onto the counter and grabbed that morning’s paper. He flipped to the second page and handed it to her.

She read it to herself, stopping only to say, “Vandalized?” and then, “Apprehended suspects Isabel Whitman and Billy Darden?” She set the paper down and looked at him wide-eyed. “No way. Do you think they’re . . .”

“I think they’re . . .”

“Oh my god. That is twisted.” She picked up the newspaper again and re-skimmed the article. “Billy? What’s she see in him?”

“My guess? An easy guy to manipulate.”

“Then what’s he see in her?”

He shrugged. “Breasts.”

“God, poor Alex. Poor Garret. She’s out of control. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you ever saw in her.”

Sometimes he tried to remember, just to convince himself that he hadn’t been crazy. “She wasn’t always like this,” he said. “She used to go to college and laugh and study. She was normal.” Now she was just . . . different.

“I don’t think she was ever normal,” Maria argued. “I think crazy Isabel was always lurking beneath the surface just waiting to be let out.”

“Maybe.”

“You slept with a psycho,” she teased.

“So? You slept with Billy.”

“True.” She made a face. “Gross.”

He leaned over, cupped her face, and kissed her. It didn’t matter who they had been with before. All that mattered was that they were together now and always would be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Max was painting over the spray-paint on his living room walls when Isabel went to see him that afternoon. He had already covered up the paint on his kitchen ceiling, albeit not well. She could still see where she’d written slut in the living room because Max was using a white that was too white. Now slut was subtle but still there.

“You’re using the wrong color,” she informed him. “It’s more of an eggshell white.”

“You wanna do it?” He held up the paintbrush. “You had no problem painting my walls yesterday.”

“Well, that was yesterday.”

He rolled his eyes, and she watched as he slathered paint over Michael’s name. Now there was an empty heart on the wall.

“Where’s Liz?” she asked.

“She went to the gym while our membership’s still good. I promised her I’d have this done when she got home.”

“Take a break,” she told him. “I need to talk to you.”

“I refuse to apologize for not bailing you out,” he said, still painting. “But at least I got Alex to do it. I’m too nice.”

“Alex didn’t bail me out,” she informed him. “Billy did, right after his roommate bailed him out.”

“How heroic.”

She wrung her hands together, looking at the names that still decorated the walls. Max, Alex, Phillip. She wanted to punch a hole in that wall. Three holes.

“Alex knows,” she blurted. “He found out about the affair.”

This caught Max’s attention. He set the brush down on the edge of the paint can and stood up, wiping his hands off on a towel. “I didn’t tell him.”

“He hired a P.I.”

“Hmm, desperate times call for desperate measures.” Max smiled a little, seemingly proud of Alex. “See, he’s not a dumb guy.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the back of the couch. “Look, Max . . . I need you to not press charges against me and Billy.”

He laughed as though the idea were absurd.

“We made a mistake, but who cares?” she kept on. “It’s not even gonna be your house much longer. Just let it go.”

He made his way around the couch to stand in front of her and said, “I’d love to see you go to jail someday.”

“And I’d love to see you get the chair,” she retorted.

He chuckled. “Can I ask you something?”

She shrugged.

“If you’ve hated me so deeply all these years, why haven’t you just off-ed me? I’ve always wondered.”

Max’s death was a wonderful thought. She’d often dreamt of him lying in the ground in a grave right next to their father. It would have been so karmic and deserved.

“You had to have thought about it,” he went on. “Back when I had money, you would’ve known I would have left half my fortune to Liz, the other half to Garret. You could’ve had some fun with all that money.”

“Oh, I thought about it,” she assured him. She’d thought about convincing Billy to pull the trigger, getting him high enough to actually go through with it.

“Every day for the past four years, I’ve gone to sleep fearing for my life,” he admitted. “It wouldn’t take much for you to snap. I’m surprised you haven’t already.”

Truthfully, she was surprised she hadn’t, too. If it hadn’t been for Garret, she probably would have.

“Were you afraid you’d get caught?”

“Spare me the monologue, Max,” she snapped. He loved hearing himself talk almost as much as their father had. “I want you to agree to not press charges.”

“And why would I do that?”

“For the same reason you didn’t tell Alex about Billy: Garret. I’d fight you in court and he shouldn’t have to go through that. His uncle versus his mother? You care about him too much to subject him to that. Besides, I’ve already got a DUI to pay off. I’d be so financially drained, even with my new job.”

“You got a job?” He sounded shocked. “Who’d you fuck to get it?”

“I didn’t fuck anyone.”

“If that’s your story.” He ran one hand through his hair, smearing white paint against his forehead. “Fine, I won’t press charges against you, but I’m still pressing them against Billy. I wanna put that son of a bitch in jail.”

“No, Max . . . please,” she whimpered urgently. She could barely stand a week without Billy when he’d gone to Colorado. She couldn’t stand to be without him any longer, and the way he talked, if he got convicted of something, he’d go away for months.

“You’re begging?” He cackled. “And you say it’s not serious, but clearly it is.”

She didn’t want to think about that. She was already startled by the fact that she’d taken the DUI charge to save his ass. “Max, be logical. Billy’s got a lot of dangerous, crack-head friends who wouldn’t be too happy if you put him in jail.”

He grunted and walked back over to the wall. “I’m not afraid of him.”

“You should be.” She’d only met a few of Billy’s ‘friends,’ most of whom were actually drug connections and dealers, and they’d managed to make her uncomfortable instantly. “You don’t have your money to hide behind anymore, Max. And what about Liz?”

He stiffened. “You think they’d come after her?”

She shrugged. Didn’t hurt to stretch the truth a whole lot. “To get back at you they might. They’re addicts, Max. They don’t think logically. The best thing you could do would be to let this go. For Liz’s sake, for Garret’s.”

Max narrowed his eyes at her. He seemed to suspect that she was playing him like a fiddle, yet she knew he was about to give in. Max was by no means Superman, but he did have two very obvious forms of kryptonite in the form of his nephew and his wife.

“Fine,” he grunted, bending down to pick up the paintbrush. “We’re gonna be the end of each other,” he grumbled, slapping the paint onto the heart design.

She smirked behind his back. Her brother had a smaller heart than most, but at times, it beat louder and stronger than anyone else’s.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tess scrambled to her front door when she heard an urgent knocking, and the sight she saw was not a pleasant one. Liz stood before her, crying quietly, mascara tracks on her cheeks.

“Liz, what’s wrong?” she asked, genuinely concerned.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, “I was on my way home from the gym and I ended up here.”

“You go to the gym?” Tess surveyed her clothing. She was indeed wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and her hair was up in a ponytail.

“No, but we paid for this really expensive membership and I never used it until now,” Liz explained tearfully, “and I actually have a personal trainer I’ve never met, too, and . . . Tess, can I come in?”

“Oh, sure.” Tess stepped aside and Liz sulked in.

“Thanks,” she whimpered, looking around the living room wistfully. “You and Kyle have such a nice house. How long have you lived here now, about two months?”

“Yeah.”

Liz sat down on the couch, looking so small and pitiful. “I remember when Max and I moved into our house. It was so beautiful. I never wanted to leave, and now . . .” Her expression turned from sadness to anger in an instant. “Did you hear what Isabel did to it?”

“Yeah, it was all over the news.”

“Now we can’t even move out peacefully. Max is doing all this repainting, and I’m sure he’s doing a really shoddy job because usually we just hire people to do that kind of thing.”

Tess sat down beside her warily, reluctant to assume the therapist role with someone as dysfunctional as Liz Parker. Or technically Liz Evans now.

“We have no place to go, Tess,” she cried. “We might literally end up being homeless. I’m so scared, and Max is scared, too, but he’ll never admit it.”

“Did you check out Fairview like I told you?”

Liz nodded mutely.

“The Links?” They were both nice apartment complexes, affordable rent.

“Mmm-hmm. Max says they’re too expensive.”

Tess wrinkled her forehead in confusion. “Even with the raise I’m giving you?” Just how poor were those two now?

Liz buried her face in her hands and started to sob. “Everything’s so bad,” she wailed, nearly incoherent. “I don’t know what to do.”

Tess wished she could do something more to help her, but she’d already done what she could.

Liz’s phone rang in her purse, and she reached in and pulled it out. “Hello?” she answered tearfully. Tess could tell just by the look on her face that it was Max and that she wasn’t liking what she was hearing. “What?” she spat. “That soon?”

Tess looked away. The whole situation was a train wreck.

Liz flipped her phone closed a moment later, looking nearly emotionless now. “That was Max,” she said. “Somebody made an offer on the house. We have to be out of there tomorrow.”

Holy crap, that is soon, Tess thought. She knew feeling bad for her ex-boyfriend’s former mistress was a bit unconventional, but so be it. She wanted to do something more to help.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tess dragged Liz with her to the gallery to talk to Kyle. Michael was leaving when they got there. Kyle always worked later than he had to.

“Hi, Michael. Bye, Michael,” she chirped as she and Liz bypassed him. Kyle was standing behind the front counter, a mass of paperwork sprawled out in front of him.

“Hey, husband,” she greeted.

“Wife,” he returned without glancing up. He seemed to sense that they weren’t the only two there, though, because he eventually did look up and say, “Liz. Hey, how’s it goin’?”

Liz sniffed back tears.

“Uh . . . don’t get her started,” Tess cautioned. The girl had cried for twenty minutes straight and gone through half a box of tissues. “Can I talk to you in your office for a minute?”

“Sure.” They headed into the back, leaving Liz alone in the gallery, and before Tess could get another word out, Kyle started in. “Hey, you know that Augustus Monet guy I told you about, the one that pays all the money for those paintings? He came in and bought another one today. For eight-thousand dollars. We’re gonna be rich, I tell you, rich.”

“That’s great. Um . . . Liz needs our help,” she blurted. “Her house just sold and she and Max have nowhere to go. Now you’re gonna think this sounds crazy, but I think we should let them stay with us for a couple days.”

Kyle’s eyebrows arched. “Both of them?”

“Well, maybe just Liz.”

Kyle looked at her confusedly.

“I can’t help it,” she said, flapping her arms against her sides. “Somehow over the years, she’s become my friend, and I can’t just hang her out to dry, not when I have the ability to help.”

He sighed heavily, his eyes downcast.

“She’s a nervous wreck, Kyle. She thinks they’re gonna be homeless.”

“I have no problem letting Liz stay a few days,” he explained. “I’ve known her all my life; I wanna help her out, too. My only concern is that a couple days will become a couple weeks, and then a couple weeks will become a couple months, and before you know it, Max will wanna move in, too.”

“No, we’ll just tell her he can’t.”

Liz cleared her throat and made her presence known in the doorway to Kyle’s office. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear,” she said meekly, “and I appreciate the offer, really, but . . . I can’t go anywhere without Max. He’s already so insecure about our relationship.”

“Insecure?” Kyle echoed incredulously. “Max Evans?”

“Hard to fathom, I know. He’s worried I’m gonna leave him, so I can’t stay with you if he can’t. I need to assure him that I’m with him.”

Tess already felt herself re-working her plan to accommodate that. “Well, maybe . . .”

“What?” Kyle cut in. “No, no maybe. He’s your cheating ex-boyfriend, remember? He hired guys to beat me up, and we all know what he did to Maria. The guy cares more about money than people.”

Tess saw Liz flinch, and the desire to help her only intensified. “Just for a few days,” she said. “We have a guest room and . . .”

“Have you lost your mind?” Kyle interrupted again. “Maria’s gonna have a heart attack.”

“But Max and Liz are a package deal, and I’d be willing to put up with him in order to help her.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be concentrating on making a baby right now? Isn’t that what you want, or are we giving up on that?”

“No, we just started.” She didn’t like his tone, and she didn’t like what he’d just said. Wasn’t it supposed to be something they wanted? “We can do that with them there,” she pointed out.

“Huh, speak for yourself.”

“Do we have to fight about everything?” Lately it seemed as though nothing were simple between them. Between the fights like this and the bottled up animosity, it was exhausting.

“Liz, I’m sorry,” Kyle apologized, “this has nothing to do with you. It’s just . . .”

“My husband,” she filled in. “Don’t worry, Kyle, I understand.” She turned and sulked back out into the gallery.

“Liz, wait,” Tess called after her, but she didn’t come back. “Great. Now look how bad you made her feel.”

“She said she understands,” Kyle pointed out.

“She was just being polite. God, I hate how you just made this decision like you’re the final word on everything.”

“I am.”

That almost knocked the wind out of her. It was so . . . authoritarian. He never talked to her like that.

“I’m the one paying for our house, so I think I should get to decide who lives in it,” he said. “So if you wanna be a part of the decision-making process, maybe you should focus a little less on Liz and babies and a little more on your career.”

She stared at him in astonishment, and not the good kind. She felt like she didn’t even know him, so she pushed past him without another word. Who was that guy? He couldn’t possibly be her husband, because he was . . . mean. And worse, what he’d just said to her sounded like something Max would say.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Liz got home (and she used that word loosely now) she found Max upstairs in the bedroom, packing up two suitcases full of clothes. How pathetic was it that all their clothes fit in two suitcases now?

He didn’t acknowledge her presence, just kept on packing. Finally, when she sensed that he wasn’t going to say anything, she walked up beside him and asked, “Why do we have to be out of here so soon?” It seemed ridiculous to have only one day’s notice.

“It was the only way I could get the buyers to pay full price,” he explained. “It’s still all about the money, Liz.”

She took a step back, fighting to hold back her tears. She hated money. Hated it. It truly was the root of all evil. It ruined everything. Whoever invented money had been the stupidest person in the world.

“Don’t look so sad,” he said. “We knew this day was coming, and now it’s here.”

“And we still don’t have anywhere to go.” Wasn’t he worried about that at all? “I talked to Tess today and she’s willing to let us stay at her place for a few days.”

Max looked genuinely shocked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” It had surprised her, too. “But Kyle’s not being so agreeable. He’ll let me stay there, but he won’t let you. I told him I wasn’t going anywhere without you. You’re my husband and I’m your wife and--”

“I think you should go.”

She wasn’t even sure if she heard him correctly. “What?”

He zipped up his suitcase and got to work pressing down the clothes in hers. “Either go stay with them or go home to your parents. I’ll be alright.”

This wasn’t what she had expected him to say. She could tell he was still insecure, but telling her to go was his way of hiding it. “No, Max, we need to be together.”

“No, I need you to be warm and safe and comfortable. That’s not something I can guarantee right now.”

“But where are you gonna go?”

“I don’t know, Liz.” He tried zipping her suitcase shut, and the zipper broke off. He threw it down on the floor, swearing under his breath. “I called Jimmy and Roger—they won’t help. Turns out my ex-employees think I’m an ass. Imagine that. And I could ask Isabel, but . . .”

“Isabel? The same Isabel who just vandalized our house?”

“She owes me,” he informed her. “I agreed not to press charges against her and her lover.”

“Her lover?” she echoed, completely caught off guard. That sure didn’t sound like Alex. “Max, who-what’s going on?”

“Everything’s going to hell, Liz, and I’ve got a front row seat. So go stay with Tess in white picket fence land. Get out of the line of fire, ‘cause I’m probably gonna be living out of my car for a week. I don’t want that for you.”

“Are you serious?” The car? That seemed so drastic.

“Either that or the homeless shelter.”

“The homeless shelter?” she shrieked. “Oh my god, Max.” She started to cry.

“Well, what do you expect, huh?” he roared. “All the money from the sale of this house goes towards paying off my personal debts, and all the money from the sale of the hotels goes towards paying off my professional ones. This is the way the world works. Get used to it.”

The tears began streaming down her face. She couldn’t stop them.

“Don’t cry,” he said, seemingly annoyed by it at first. But a moment later, he opened up his arms and pulled her against him, hugging her and letting her cry against him. He would never let himself show that much emotion, but she knew somewhere deep inside, he wanted to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was after 9:00 when Kyle got home. Tess was loading dishes into the dishwasher. She didn’t look up when he walked in, but she did speak to him. “I made Hamburger Helper for dinner, but I ate it all,” she said, “so you can cook your own damn food.”

He took off his jacket and draped it on the back of the couch. “So we’re just picking up right where we left off at the gallery, are we?”

Her head shot up, her eyes blazing. “Well, what do you expect me to do, just forgive you? What you said was totally rude and uncalled for.”

He shrugged. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

She blinked back tears. “Would you listen to yourself? This isn’t you. You don’t talk to me like this.”

He knew that much was true. What was it that Maria had said, that she was his goddess?

“You know what? I’m just gonna go stay with Maria tonight.” She slammed the dishwasher shut and stomped through the living room, headed for the stairs.

“Tess, wait.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m . . . I’m sorry. I don’t wanna fight with you. This baby stuff just has me on edge right now. It doesn’t take much to set me off.”

“Why are you on edge?” she asked. “Just be excited, okay?”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah, I’m just . . . I’m really focused on work right now, too, so I got a lot going on.”

“But I thought the gallery was doing well.”

“It is. Best it’s ever been. But I’ve got this auction to plan, so it’s a little hectic. That’s all.” He was lying a little bit. That wasn’t all. He could blame his stress on work, but the truth was that most of it was coming from home, from the idea of being a father.

“I’m sure the auction will be great,” she assured him, reaching down to take his hands in hers. “We just need to not stress out, you know? And if we do stress out, let’s not take it out on each other. Deal?” She smiled at him hopefully.

“Deal,” he agreed. He didn’t want to make her cry or make her angry. He loved her. They were a team. They had to deal with stuff together.

She squeezed his hands and hugged him. He hugged her back, hoping that fights would be few and far between from now on. He would continue to be stressed out, but he’d try to keep it to himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Dangerous, drug-addicted friends?” Billy laughed and blew a ring of smoke up towards the ceiling. “He actually bought that?”

Isabel smirked as she lay beside him, basking in the gloriousness of Max’s gullibility. “Yeah, so if Lorenzo ever sees him, tell him to look menacing.”

“Kay.” Billy put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand and turned to look at her. “Thanks for taking the heat on that DUI, by the way,” he said. “I never knew you could be so selfless.”

“Neither did I.” She drummed her fingers atop her stomach, choosing not to think about it. Selfless was the last thing she wanted to be. Selfish on the other hand . . .

“So it’s kinda weird your husband knows about us now, huh?” Billy went on. “And he’s okay with it?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Alex had seemed pretty far from okay about it, but realistically, what could he do? He couldn’t stop her.

“So it’s not even really an affair now, is it?”

“Nope.” She wondered what it would be like to be with Billy now. Instead of lying to Alex about where she was going, she’d just tell him she was going to Billy’s. No secrets. Maybe this would actually be a good thing for their pathetic excuse of a marriage. “I wonder if we liked sneaking around more than we liked each other.” She smiled teasingly. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Nah, I was tired of sneaking around,” he admitted, turning onto his side. He took one of her hands in his and interlaced their fingers. He just lay there gazing at her for a moment, and she realized how intimate they must have looked. Too intimate.

“I’ve gotta go,” she said, feeling uncomfortable. She crawled out of the bed and quickly located her clothes.

“Why?” He sounded disappointed.

“Family dinner tonight. Damage control for the argument Garret overheard. He’s been moping around all day.” She dressed as she talked, found her purse, and started to leave.

“Isabel,” Billy called, stopping her.

She whirled around.

“Let’s go out on Halloween.”

She grinned, knowing he’d cum instantly upon seeing the costume she had picked out. “Where?”

“To Grunge,” he said. “I got a set booked. Nothin’ major, just three songs. But I’d really like you to be there.”

“Are you gonna play that song you wrote about me?”

He blushed. The boy actually blushed. “Who told you about that?”

“Lorenzo,” she replied. “So, are you?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Maybe.”

“Then I’ll be there.” She’d been wanting to hear that song for awhile.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Isabel arrived home, Alex was setting the table. Isabel hung her coat up in the closet and surveyed his work. No. So much no. “That’s wrong,” she informed him. “The forks go on the left.” This wasn’t a formal, fancy dinner by any means, but he should still know which side of the plate the forks went on.

He stared at her for a moment, then begrudgingly shifted the forks over to the left. “You think everything I do is wrong.”

“Not everything. Just most things.” She looked over the food on the kitchen table. Alex had gotten food from Kentucky Fried Chicken: mashed potatoes, corn, biscuits, macaroni and cheese, and of course, chicken. Calories, calories everywhere.

“Max stopped by earlier,” he revealed. “His house sold. He wanted to stay here, said you owed him for not pressing charges.”

She stiffened. “What’d you say?” She so did not want to live with her brother again. Eighteen years of that had been enough.

“I told him I didn’t owe him anything, shut the door in his face.” He sounded proud of himself for that.

“Huh. Well, you did something right for a change.”

He glared at her.

“Speaking of doing something right,” she segued, “I start my job tomorrow.” It had taken a little verbal persuasion and a whole lot of cleavage to convince Arthur not to fire her for her recent crime spree.

“Great,” he muttered. “Too bad half of what you make this month’s gonna go towards paying off that DUI.” He crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “You wanna tell Garret Santa’s not coming this year or should I?”

“You can do it.” She smirked and hollered upstairs, “Garret, dinnertime!”

Alex circled his hand around the rim of his glass and quietly asked, “Were you with Billy today?”

She gripped the back of her chair tightly, not saying anything.

“You’re gonna keep seeing him?”

“Garret, now!”

Garret came trundling down the stairs. He stopped with one foot on the bottom step and looked at the table with a confused expression.

“Hi, sweetie,” Isabel said. “Look, it’s a family dinner. What do you think?”

Garret just kept on looking confused. Who could blame him? They’d had a total of about two family dinners ever, and both of them had been when he was an infant.

“Macaroni and cheese,” she pointed out, “your favorite.”

Garret slowly made his way towards the table, inhaling the aromas of the food.

“Let’s eat,” Alex suggested, pulling out Garret’s chair for him. He sat down, his head barely above the table. Isabel took her seat, and as Alex took his, he prompted Garret, “Why don’t you tell your mom what you did all day?”

Garret just picked up his fork and dug at his food.

“Played?” Isabel guessed.

“Yeah.” He stuck his fork into his macaroni and popped it into his mouth.

“Hmm.” Isabel cast a glance at her husband. “Me, too.”

“Cut it out, will you?”

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“It’s what you didn’t say. Stop.”

“Stop not saying something?”

He rolled his eyes in annoyance and asked, “Gare, how’s your food?”

“Fine,” he mumbled, reaching for his glass of milk. He almost knocked it over. Isabel had to reach over and keep it upright. She helped him take a drink and set it back down. Silence resettled over them for a few more minutes until she decided to address the reason for this dinner.

“Honey, I know you’re upset because you heard us yelling at each other yesterday,” she said, “but you don’t have to be. Sometimes grown-ups just do that.” But only when they don’t like each other, she added internally. Michael had never yelled at her like that, not even after he’d found out about her infidelity.

Garret stared blankly at his plate, using his spoon to separate the various food items.

“Are you okay?” Isabel asked him.

“No!” he yelled suddenly. “I hate it when you fight! Stop fighting! Miley said her mom and dad never fight.”

“Well, sweetie, that’s because Miley’s father is . . .” She sighed wistfully, picturing his gorgeous face. “Actually, I don’t think there are words magnificent enough to describe him.”

“Oh, give it a rest!” Alex roared, shooting to his feet.

“Stop fighting!” their son cried.

Alex slapped his hand down on the table. “Garret, stay out of this.”

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Isabel growled, standing as well.

“Why not? That’s how you talk to me.”

And all of a sudden, Garret’s voice rose above both of theirs, and he yelled, “I wish Uncle Max was my dad!” He got up and scrambled back upstairs, crying loudly, leaving a deafening silence behind him.

They stared at each other, stunned. Isabel was absolutely appalled by her son’s connection to the sociopath known as Max Evans, and her husband was clearly hurt by the words he’d just heard. Oh, well, she thought. Now at least Alex knows neither of us wants him.









TBC . . . (on Tuesday!)

-April

Well, I promised an update and here I am! I probably won't update again until sometime next week. I'm not exactly sure what day it will be, but for the next three weeks I'll be taking a class so I should be able to update twice a week.


Ellie:

Garret wishes Rapist Max were his Daddy instead of having Alex and Isabel as parents - can't say I blame the kid, but I'd pick M&M over Max being my parent any day of the foreseeable future.

You know, I just thought of a dirty "who's your daddy?" joke for Michael when I read this.

Leila:

Did they talk at all before marrying? Or was their relationship only based on sex and whack-a-mole? It seems like that to me.

They did talk before they got married. They just didn't have anything to disagree about back then.

How long will it take until Billy snaps because he can't have her due to her obsession with Michael?

That's a good question. You know, everyone's been asking when Isabel is going to get to her breaking point and snap, but it's possible that Billy has a breaking point, too.

BB:

I think the problem is that she's spoiled. She's so used to being Kyle's goddess that it never enters her head that he might possibly say no to her or not agree with her completely.

I think you're right. And part of the problem is that Tess and Kyle lived in what was basically a little fairytale from the end of 521 up until now. They didn't fight because, like I said to Leila, they had nothing to fight about. Now that they are fighting, they don't know how to put a stop to it because they haven't had much practice.

I had to google hamburger helper, because I had no idea what it was - gross! People eat that?

Yes! It's good! Well, some kinds are better than others. I like the Cheeseburger Macaroni kind, but I can't eat too much of it in one sitting or I'll get sick off it.

Novy:

Max is so easily persuaded. I guess he does have a heart when it comes to those two individuals.

Yep, Max is really a push-over sometimes. Isabel knows exactly how to get him to do what she wants, for the most part.

I guess this could be how he meets that girl if he has to really go to a homeless shelter.

Interesting theory.

That Tess and Kyle fight wow! Kyle knocked off some brownie points for that comment wow! It was mean! OMG! He really needs to talk to his wife about this whole baby thing because if this is the path he's now on I fear we won't like the side of Kyle we might have to see.

It was kind of painful to write Kyle saying those words, because Kyle's consistently been the nice, nerdy, loveable guy in both these fics. But he has changed over the years, and a lot of that has to do with the fact that he's become so passionate about owning his own business.

There is so many amazing great layers you got here as usual. It's just so exciting to keep reading more and more.

Thanks so much. You know, Passion and 521 were my first true ensemble fics, and I think they both really helped me learn how to write characters and plots with a lot of layers. More layers to come, I promise! Lots more.

Rodney:

The fact Tess was willing to let Max stay........ WOW...just WOW! And the fact that she got mad over the fact Kyle said NO to that makes me miss 521 Tess a lot.

You poor thing. I'm just dragging your couple through the mud right now. Sorry.

Haven't Max or Liz heard of the YMCA?!

Apparently not.








Part 33









Once it was time for Max to leave his house, he felt a simultaneous sense of relief and dread. On the one hand, it was hardly his house anymore now that he had no money to pay for it. On the other hand, that was a hard pill to swallow, especially since he had no other home to go to. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d only had himself to worry about, but Liz . . .

He took one last walk through the house while Liz waited out in the car. She’d been quiet all morning, very up in her own head, just as he had been. He knew that he was doing everything in that house for the last time: waking up, using that shower, opening that refrigerator. He hated that he felt so sentimental. He wasn’t a sentimental guy.

As he was on his way out the front door, he stopped and took one last look inside. It seemed like just yesterday they’d moved in.

****

He unwrapped the blindfold from around her eyes, eagerly awaiting her reaction. “Ta-da.”

Liz’s breath seemed to catch. “Oh my god, Max,” she gasped. She looked around with wide, adoring eyes, and it took her a minute to start breathing again. “This is beautiful,” she said. “Whose house is this?”

“Ours.”

She gave him a look of disbelief.

“I bought it today,” he informed her. He’d been house-hunting for awhile now, but this was the first one that had really spoken to him. From the moment he’d laid eyes on it, he’d wanted it, kinda like the first time he’d ever laid eyes on Liz. “Brand new, never been lived in,” he said proudly. “Until now.”

She looked as though she were about to faint. “Oh my god, Max.” They had been living in his suite together for the past year now. It was nice, of course, but it couldn’t compare to this. Nothing could compare to this.

“I love you so much,” she told him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I love you, too.” He kissed her, unafraid to say that word in that moment. Love. He felt it all the time, but he still hardly ever said it.

“So, uh . . .” She dropped her hands down to his, tilting her head to the side flirtatiously. “What’s the bedroom look like?”

“Which one?” he asked in return. “We have eleven.”

“Ooh, so much fun to be had!” She squealed, grabbed his hand, and together they ran upstairs.

****

Max closed the door. Last time he’d ever do that. A house was just walls. He had to keep telling himself that.

He met up with Liz in the car and asked, “Ready to go?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He stuck the keys in the car and brought it to life. “Me, neither.”

The drive over to Alvarado Street wasn’t a particularly long one. They hit a few red lights, didn’t say anything while they were stopped, and arrived at Tess and Kyle’s house about fifteen minutes after driving away from their own house—former.

Max pulled up out front and shut the car off. “They have a nice place,” he remarked. “A little smaller than what we’re used to, but . . . hey, at least you still have a pool.”

She nodded. “I wish you could stay with me.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. Just try to enjoy your time here with these freaks.”

“They’re not freaks, Max,” she argued. “They’re good people and they’re happy.”

He glanced over at the house to the left. Michael and Maria’s place, if he recalled. They were walking out the door together. He was carrying the youngest kid, and she was holding the oldest one’s hand. They were all smiling.

“We’ve never been like them,” he said.

“We’ve been happy.”

“Yeah, but not like them.” He watched as Michael gave Maria a kiss, and then she climbed into one car with her kids and he headed towards the car parked in the garage. The hairs on the back of his neck started to stand up. He felt so out of place here, like at any moment an angry mob was going to ambush him for being . . . different.

“Money doesn’t buy happiness, Max,” Liz pointed out.

“That’s a cliché.”

“But a true one.” She leaned across the gearshift and cupped his face in her hands, pressing her forehead against his. “I love you,” she said.

He flashed back to move-in day, when he’d been confident enough to say those words back to her. He swallowed hard and just nodded. He didn’t have to say it; she knew. It was good to hear her say it, though. He had to keep hearing her say it.

She got out of the car and walked up the sidewalk to Tess’s front door, rolling her suitcase behind her. She rang the doorbell, casting a glance back at him, and Tess came to the door a few seconds later. Max heard her say something like, “Welcome to my humble abode,” before she went inside. Tess then came out to the car and tapped on the drivers’ side window. Max rolled it down reluctantly.

“Alright, so here are the rules,” she said. “You can’t set foot on the property and you can’t set foot in the house. Kyle would shit a gold brick, and I’m not too keen on the idea, either. So just don’t, okay?”

He rolled his eyes. Whatever.

“And leave Michael and Maria alone,” she added. “FYI, Michael will kill you if you ever go near his kids.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” he said. “I’ll be out looking for a job and a place to live. So it may be a wonderful day in the neighborhood, but I won’t be around to enjoy it.” He shrugged. Didn’t really matter. He stuck out like a sore thumb on that street anyway. The former millionaire. The monster. The only one who needed redemption and couldn’t ever seem to find it. “In all honesty, though, Tess,” he tacked on, “thanks for letting Liz stay with you.”

“It’s just for a few days,” she reminded him.

“I know, but it helps. And you have no reason to be nice to her, or to me for that matter.”

“Well, I can forgive Liz for your guys’ affair,” she said. “I can even forgive you. But we both know what I can never forgive you for.”

He glanced back at Michael and Maria’s house. Maria was driving away now.

“And just to be clear, Max, I don’t like you,” she told him. “I tolerate you.” She headed back towards her house saucily, and he remembered why he used to be so attracted to her. Tess and Maria were both hot as hell, but Liz was the one who really had him, all of him. And he’d let her down.

He drove off, reminding himself that a house was just walls. As long as he didn’t put up any unnecessary walls between himself and Liz, they’d be fine.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael invited Brandon to the gallery that day to give him his cut of the profit from the sale of his paintings. They usually split it fifty-fifty, but with sales as high as Brandon’s paintings, they split it differently, sixty percent to the gallery, forty to the artist. Brandon didn’t seem to mind. He worked full-time as a waiter and seemed delighted to have money to pay his rent for the next few months.

“Wow, Mr. Guerin, you have a beautiful family,” he said as he walked around the gallery , surveying some of the paintings on display of Maria, Miley, and Macy.

“Mr. Guerin?” he scoffed. “Call me Michael.” He sounded way too old otherwise.

“Sorry, it’s just . . . you sold my paintings for so much money. I feel like I should bow down or something.”

Michael chuckled. “I didn’t do anything. Kyle sold them, and actually, I don’t think he had to work too hard for it, either. The guy kind of just . . . spent his money.”

“Well, I’m eternally grateful to you both,” Brandon said. “Uh, bathroom?”

“Around the corner,” Michael said, gesturing to its location. “When you come out, I’ll give you your money.”

“I can’t wait.” Brandon disappeared into the back and rounded the corner with a gleeful grin on his face. It always made Michael feel good to be able to sell an aspiring artist’s work. It was a tough industry, one he himself had never fully been able to break into. His work sold well around the Santa Fe area, but not really anywhere else.

A customer walked in the front door, and he automatically greeted, “Welcome to C4. How can I . . .” He trailed off when he saw who had walked in. “Help you,” he finished. It was the big guy, the guy with all the money. He was hard to mistake. “Mr. Monet,” he said, “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Michael Guerin, co-owner of this gallery.” He walked towards him and extended his hand for a handshake, but Augustus didn’t reciprocate.

“Is Kyle around?” he asked.

Michael slowly withdrew his hand. “No, not right now.” He took a few steps back, slightly intimidated by this guy for a reason he wasn’t even sure of. All he knew was that something felt . . . off. “You know, I really appreciate your generosity towards our gallery and our artists,” he said, “but can I ask why you’re doing it?”

Augustus just shrugged. “Must a man have an ulterior motive?”

“No, I didn’t say that. I was just wondering.” Michael hated the way this guy was looking at him. There was a certain smugness and superiority in his eyes, a smirk on his lips.

“I think I’ll wait until Kyle’s in before I make my next purchase,” Augustus said, looking Michael up and down as though he were a bug. “He and I have a rapport.” He smiled the fake kind of smile, turned and waddled back out the way he’d come in. He climbed into the passenger’s seat of a silver Lexus with tinted windows and drove off.

Brandon came out of the bathroom a moment later. “Who was that?” he asked.

“The guy who bought your paintings.” Michael watched the car zoom through a red light at the intersection.

“Oh, really? I should meet with him and thank him sometime.”

“I wouldn’t,” Michael cautioned, still feeling . . . unsettled.

“Why not?” Brandon asked.

Michael frowned. “He doesn’t strike me as a people person.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria draped her leg over Michael’s waist and rolled over so that she was on top of him. The sheets tangled between them as they kissed and their breathing mingled. She could feel his large hands splayed against her back, her shoulders, her sides, and it felt so good; but only half as good as the bulge she felt when she pressed her hips down into his. It was so great to have a night like this, just the two of them, not a care in the world.

She nibbled on his ear playfully and smoothed her hands all over his shoulders and naked chest. “You’re still tense,” she noted quietly.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

This was strange. Usually Michael was incredibly relaxed after he had an orgasm. They both were, and hell, he’d already had two tonight. “What’s wrong?” she asked, forcing herself to stop kissing him for a moment.

He opened his mouth slightly as though he were about to say something, then changed his mind and said, “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He sat up enough to recapture her lips and pull her back down towards him. He sneaked one hand beneath the sheets to roam over her bottom, and as much as she wanted to get distracted by his touch and not press the issue, whatever it was, she knew he would only relax when he got what was bothering him off his chest.

“Tell me,” she urged, barely able to take her lips away from his.

He sighed reluctantly and rubbed the small of her back for a moment before divulging. “I’ve got a weird feeling about a customer,” he said.

She looked at him expectantly.

“That’s it,” he said.

“Oh, well . . . I thought it was something worse.” And worse usually meant Isabel. A weird customer? That was a relief.

“Let’s have sex,” he said, trying to kiss her again.

She turned her head to the side, and he got her cheek. “Why do you have a weird feeling?” she asked.

“Because I’m naked in bed with you and we’re not having sex,” he murmured, pressing his hips up against her.

“I’m serious.”

He lay his head back on the pillow and sighed again. “I don’t know, I just do,” he said. “And I’m a pretty good judge of character, don’t you think?”

She snorted in laughter.

“Well, except for Isabel.”

“Except for her . . . yeah, you are,” she admitted. “So if you think something’s up with this guy . . . or girl. Is it a girl?”

“It’s a guy.”

“Okay, guy . . . then maybe something’s up.” She wasn’t sure what the something was, and she wasn’t about to formulate a guess. She knew nothing about managing the gallery and knew nothing about the person who was giving Michael a weird feeling, either. It sounded like something they could handle, though.

“Maybe.” He reached up and stroked her hair, trailing his fingers down to brush against her collarbone and her breasts. He stared at her and didn’t say anything for what felt like a long time.

“What?” she finally said, blushing under the heat of his gaze.

“Nothing,” he said. “Sometimes I just look at you and . . . I can’t stop.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest. She loved that he could still do this to her. Even after all these years, he said things and did things that made her feel like a blissful, crushed-out sixteen year-old.

She kissed him again and said, “You’re my soul mate.”

He raised an eyebrow at that and laughed a little.

“I know that sounds cheesy,” she acknowledged, “but . . .” Sometimes it was good to be cheesy.

“You’re my soul mate, too,” he returned, but it didn’t sound cheesy coming from him. It sounded more masculine and romantic. He gripped her hips and started moving her forward and backward on top of him, letting her groin roll over his growing bulge.

“Uh . . .” she gasped, throwing her head back as she reveled in the sensation. She loved that Michael could make her feel like this, too, like the most desirable, sexy woman in the world, even if she wasn’t. She was to him.

“Make love to me,” she practically begged, leaning forward again. Their lips trembled together as he sheathed himself in latex and settled inside her. When they were together like this, Maria felt invincible, like they could conquer any challenge that came their way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tess unhooked her necklace and hung it back in her jewelry box. She cast a suspicious glance towards the closed bathroom door. Kyle had been in there awhile now.

When he came out, she didn’t hold back. “Kyle?”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “Huh?”

“What were you doing in there?”

“Brushing my teeth, going to the bathroom. Do I need to go into any more detail?”

“No. I was just checking.” She took off her white silk robe and draped it over the chair in front of her vanity.

“Checking on what?” he asked, still not moving.

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t on one of your solo missions,” she explained. “I read this article about how, if you wanna maximize your chances of conception, you have to stop masturbating, or at least cut way back on it.”

Kyle’s eyebrows shot straight up, and he stared at her as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He broke into a chuckle a few seconds later, but upon noticing she wasn’t laughing, he said, “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Yes.”

It took him a moment to say anything else, and when he did, it was only, “Oh.” He took a deep breath, looking worried. “Okay, um . . .”

“You don’t do it that much, do you?”

He shifted nervously. “No, not really. Just at work sometimes and . . . other places during other times and . . .” He tried to smile reassuringly, but he still looked panicked. “It’s okay, I’ll . . . take one for the team.”

“Good,” she said, happy to hear that. “Thanks. It shouldn’t be that bad. I mean, what do you need to do that for? You’ve got me.” She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him, pressing her entire body against his. She didn’t care that they had a houseguest tonight. They couldn’t pass up any potential baby-making evenings.

“We could make it easier on you and throw out all your dirty magazines,” she suggested, slipping her fingers underneath the top of his boxers.

“Whoa, let’s not get crazy now.” He picked her up in his arms and set her down on the bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Liz lay awake that night, listening to something that could only be described as the sounds. The unmistakable and somewhat disturbing sounds of Kyle and Tess having sex in their bedroom. The walls in that house were not very thick. As much as they were probably trying to be quiet, she could hear little moans and groans and words of encouragement, as well as the headboard of the bed repeatedly tapping against the wall.

She made a face, slightly icked and very jealous. She’d known Kyle since he was a little kid, so picturing him going to town like this was not the most pleasant thing. At the same time, she wished she and Max could be doing what they were doing, and what Michael and Maria were probably doing next door. She felt . . . far away from her husband, and that wasn’t a good feeling.

She smashed the sides of her pillow against her ears, groaning in discontent.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Max lay in the back of his car that evening, his new car. He’d sold the Benz that day and purchased a used Honda Accord instead. It had over 150,000 miles on it and needed more repairs than the World Trade Center, but it was all he could afford. It wasn’t comfortable.

He had parked the car across from his house—his old house now. The man who had purchased it from him was apparently a successful lawyer. He had a family, a wife and two kids, a boy and a girl. They went to sleep at 10:30. Max lay in his car and watched them turn out the lights.

He couldn’t get to sleep. He kept wondering what Liz was doing. She was okay. She’d be fine without him. The difference was that he never felt fine without her.

His stomach knotted up as he lay there that night, not because he missed his house, and not even because he no longer had one; but because he had more bad news to tell Liz, and much like the bankruptcy, she would never see it coming.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria was on her way to the library to do a little research for a paper in between classes when a) she began to wonder if she’d ever set foot in the library during her years at the university and b) she spotted Alex at the coffee shop outside the Student Union. He had a caramel macchiato in his left hand and a textbook pinned beneath his right arm. He was wearing a beige sweater and glasses, looked very studious.

She glanced at her watch and decided she had time to make a detour. She approached him just as he had taken a seat at a table, taken a sip of his beverage, and opened his book.

“Hey, Alex,” she greeted.

He looked up and didn’t say anything for a moment, almost as though he wasn’t used to having people talk to him. “Oh, hey,” he finally returned. “How are you?”

“Good.” She peered down at the printed page before him and asked, “Are you officially enrolled here now?” That sure as hell didn’t look like pleasure reading.

“Officially, yeah,” he said with a nod.

“For this semester or . . .”

“It’s kind of an open enrollment thing,” he explained. “This business class and this education class both have different sections that start mid-semester. They said it’s meant to help people like me who enroll too late for the fall, too early for the spring. That kind of thing.”

“That sounds really good,” she said. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Go ahead.”

She set her backpack on the ground and took a seat across from him. She realized she was probably interrupting his study time, but he seemed like such a loner. He needed to socialize. “So, an education class, huh?” she said. “Are you thinking about being a teacher?”

He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Not really. It’s more of a dream. See, when I was little, I used to think it’d be cool to be a high school business teacher, or maybe a computer teacher. But my dad got me started at his company instead, said teachers don’t make any money.”

“Well, that much is true,” she acknowledged. “That’s stupid, don’t you think? Without teachers, you wouldn’t have doctors or lawyers or any of those six-figure salary jobs.”

He laughed a little. “Exactly.”

She studied him for a bit, not quite sure if he was cut out to be a teacher. But then again, a lot of people probably thought that about her. “You should do it,” she encouraged him. “They say this university has one of the best teaching programs in the state. I don’t know about the Secondary Ed program, but I’m an Elementary Ed major and it’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, but all the credits I earned in Florida went towards a business degree,” he told her. “If I switched now, I’d be in college forever. I really need to graduate.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Besides,” he added, “I don’t know if I’d be any good with kids.”

“Sure you would. You’re a father to one,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but . . . I’m not very good with him.”

Maria was a bit taken aback. Why would he say that? He had to be the good parent. Garret seemed like a nice enough kid, and he sure as hell hadn’t gotten that from his mother.

Alex sighed sadly. “He said he wishes Max was his dad.”

“Oh.” She made a face.

“Yeah, so let that be an indication of my parenting skills. Or lack thereof.”

He sounded so dejected and defeated and . . . any other word that started with the de- prefix. “Is this you talking or Isabel?” she inquired. Because it almost seemed like Isabel had her hand up his back and was playing puppeteer.

“Me,” he admitted. “You think I’m a good guy, but . . . I drink too much.”

“I used to drink a lot.”

“No, this is . . . different.” He seemed adamant about that.

She waited a moment, then said, “I still think you’re a good guy.” He probably didn’t drink as much as he thought he did.

“Oh, yeah? Then why’s my wife cheating on me?”

“Because she’s a rabid whore,” Maria answered readily. That made Alex laugh a little. It was strange that he had almost no laugh lines on his face. Strange and unsettling. “So she and Billy really are . . .” Up until now, it had all been speculating, but Alex nodded and confirmed it. “Damn.” That had to be a dysfunctional duo. “I read about it in the paper,” she said. “God, those two deserve each other. He’s awful.”

“You know him?”

“I dated him.” She cringed at the mere thought.

“Really?” He seemed surprised.

“Well, only for two weeks.” She didn’t want to make it seem like it had been some serious commitment when it’d been just the opposite. “But he cheated on me, and then I discovered the magic that is Michael.”

Alex’s face fell, and he looked down at his book.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “You probably hear enough Michael-worship from Isabel.”

“No, it’s okay when you say it. You’re not obsessed,” he muttered bitterly.

“That’s why we got a restraining order against her.”

“A restraining order?” he echoed. “She didn’t tell me about that.” He nodded slowly and smiled, not the happy kind of smile but the approving kind. “Good for you. I wish I could do that. But she and I have a child together, so I gotta accept the fact that, for the rest of our lives, we’ll be connected.”

That had to be a sobering thought . . . no pun intended. Every time Alex said something like that, Maria thought about how easily Michael could’ve been in his shoes. He could have been the one who drank too much and never laughed and seemed surprised when someone started up a friendly conversation with him.

“I owe a lot to you, Alex,” she said. “If you hadn’t come to Santa Fe when you did . . . well, I don’t even wanna think about what would’ve happened to my family.” She wouldn’t have even had one.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “To tell you the truth, though, I’m insanely jealous of you. Of Michael, your friends . . . all of you.” He picked up his pencil and tapped it against the edge of his book, frowning. “You’re with someone who brings out the best in you. I’m with someone who brings out the worst in me.”

Maria stared at him, full of involuntary empathy. She wondered what the best version of Alex would be like. More than that, she wondered if that version even existed anymore.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Work was so easy, almost too easy to be called work. By 11:00, Isabel had already finished the tasks her boss had set out for her to do that day. She pranced into his office and proudly announced, “Mr. Miller, I got your filing done.” He’d shoved a mountain of paperwork at her that morning, thinking it’d take her all day to sort everything out and get it organized. But she was efficient.

He glanced up from his computer and asked, “Did you check for mistakes?”

“Checked and re-checked. Now what can I do?” She had an hour until sex with Billy her lunch break, and it seemed pointless to waste it.

“Check it again,” he said, returning his attention to the computer. He was either watching porn or replying to an email. Her money was on the porn.

She rolled her eyes and traipsed back out into the cubicle arena. She really hated her cubicle. It was cramped and smelled funny, though she’d tried to do her best with it. She had Photoshopped some pictures of Michael next to pictures of Garret, and whenever anyone asked who they were, she told them a half truth, that they were her husband and her son.

She opened up the A-C filling cabinet and pretended to be all interested in re-checking the assortment of papers again when, in reality, she was scheduling time after work to stop by the costume shop and slap down the final payment on her Halloween costume. She was going to look hot as hell. Literally.

A skinny guy with disheveled clothes and a buzz cut came up beside her and pulled open the M-O cabinet. “Hey,” he said, “I’m Vinny.”

“Isabel,” she returned, smiling politely and resisting the urge to laugh. This guy was so not suave in his flirtation maneuvers.

“I know,” he said. “You’re big news around here. It’s not every day we get to work with a hot girl, let alone a hot secretary. That’s like a porn fantasy, you know?”

“Hmm.” Why was it that women never went up to men and talked like that? “Sorry to burst your bubble, Vinny,” she said, “but I’m married. And sleeping with a boyfriend. And in love with an ex-boyfriend.”

He shrugged. “That’s not a problem for me.”

“And a mother.”

That did the trick. “Oh, well, never mind then.”

Go back to the Jersey Shore, kid, she thought, thoroughly annoyed. There was such a thing called a MILF and she was it. He should have known that. Everyone should have.

He took a file out of the cabinet and asked, “So did you sleep with Arthur to get the job?”

“No.”

“You gonna sleep with him?”

“I’m gonna move up at this company. That’s what I’m gonna do.” Unlike the rest of these people, she had actual talent. They were mostly men, so they looked at her and saw only breasts, of course, but she’d show them what she could do. She’d show them all.

“Yeah, that’s what I said when I got hired,” Vinny said, laughing a little. “Three years ago. And look at me now, still workin’ the same damn job in the same damn cube.”

She slammed the file cabinet shut and smirked. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not you.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and strutted back to her cubicle for a little stalkage of Michael’s Facebook before lunch. She could feel the twerp’s eyes glued to her ass the entire time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Max and Liz met up at Pizza Hut that afternoon, except they didn’t have enough money for pizza so they ate breadsticks instead. There were paper skeletons dangling from the ceiling and plastic pumpkins set up at every table. Festive, sure, but a far cry from the five-star restaurants they were used to.

“So how are you doing?” he asked, drenching half a breadstick in marinara sauce. “Are they treating you alright?”

“Of course,” she said. “It’s Tess and Kyle, not orphanage owners.” She gave the rest of her breadstick to him. “I’m more worried about you. How’s the job hunt going?”

“Not so well. The companies see my name on the application and tear it up the moment I hand it in.”

She took a sip of her water and suggested, “Maybe you need to try for something a little more . . . small-scale.”

“Like what, McDonald’s?” He grunted. That felt so . . . beneath him.

Liz stared at him in all seriousness.

“No, I can’t,” he said. Fast food wasn’t his thing. Neither was customer service or small sales.

“Just forget about your pride and find something, or else I’m gonna have to drop out of school,” she reminded him.

“No, I don’t want that for you.”

“Then please, Max.” She gazed at him pleadingly, and he knew he had to do whatever it took. For her.

“Fine, I’ll stop my McDonald’s later,” he decided.

“Thank you.”

He swirled the breadstick around in the sauce. It looked like blood. “There is some good news, though,” he said. “I think I found a place for us to live.”

“Really?” She sat up straighter. “Where?”

“It’s . . . around.”

“Is it as nice as Tess and Kyle’s house? Or Michael and Maria’s?” Her eyes gleamed with excitement. He could tell she was envisioning some perfect suburban neighborhood in her mind.

“Let me get everything finalized before I tell you anything about it, okay?”

“Okay. Gosh, this is really good news, Max. Maybe things are finally looking up.”

She sounded so hopeful. There was nothing wrong with that, but he had to reel her in before she went too far in that direction. “I wouldn’t say that,” he mumbled.

“Well, at least things can’t get any worse.”

He let go of his breadstick, suddenly no longer hungry.








TBC . . .

-April

Okay, I started up my one and only summer class today and had some time to kill afterwards, so I'm able to crank out an update! I really miss updating so frequently. I'll update at least one other time this week, either Wednesday or Friday. Possibly both if I feel up to it. You never know. Probably just one of the days, though.

The plus side of this is that I'm getting SO much writing done. Seriously, the creative juices are just flowing. It's nice. I miss you all, though! My Roswell fanfiction family.


Ellie:

Oh why do I have the feeling that much like the Valenti's are living next door to the Deluca-Guerin's, The newly minted Evans duo will soon be living next to the Evans-Whitman household? Karma is a funny thing ...

Oh, that would have been great, but that's not going to happen. Damn, I should have thought of that.

I don't know ... Maria becoming chummy with Alex just leaves me with a not so good feeling. It worries me ... like I see Alex developing a fixation on Maria kind of worried. Don't know why that popped into my head. I need to knock that sucker right the hell out!

Don't worry about that. Alex will never develop a fixation on Maria. Their acquaintance (and I use that word because I don't feel that they ever really have a true friendship) is always a little awkward, but I'm writing it in for a reason.

Leila:

I'm surprised that Alex confessed his drinking and bad relationship to his son to Maria. He strikes me as guy who wants to keep his private life hidden.

Sometimes it's easier to talk about your problems with a relative stranger than with someone you're close to, I suppose.

I already assume Billy will be one of the characters that snaps soon but when it's time for Kyle to snap?

Wow, as I was writing this, I had no idea how many characters had the potential to snap at any second. I think everybody snaps eventually, but I can't tell you when. That would ruin things.

dreambeliever:

So Kyle didn't seem to be too upset about not going solo for awhile. I would have thought he would have been more upset.

He was doing his best to hide it, I think.

Novy:

But I'm kind of scared for her to see what the worst is.

I think the worst is definitely yet to come for Max and Liz. They have a lot of challenges coming their way.

Does Kyle really need to masturbate at work?

Yes! He needs to masturbate everywhere!

I'm even more worried about that random buyer now. Oh April. This isn't good. Does he have something against Kyle? But why? Kyle's usually a good guy what could he have done to make someone want to stick it to him with the business. I'm glad Michael is on the trail. I hope he figures it out before it is too late.

Michael's spider sense is definitely tingling. But Kyle's isn't, so if anyone is going to figure out what's going on with this guy, it's going to be Michael.

How creepy though. Facebook stalking Michael and having his picture on her cubicle. I can only laugh it's so..... Isabel.

I had forgot I'd written those lines until I read back through the last update. She's such a lunatic sometimes.

Krista:

Even though he's done a lot of crappy shit and is being a dick by not telling Liz another bad thing right now, at this moment, I've gotta give Max his props. The man is willing to do anything to make his woman happy, even work at McDonald's. That's a lot more than some men are willing to do for their families.

He's willing to do whatever he can so that she can stay in school. That's kind of sweet, as sweet as Max can be in this fic.

Here's what I think: Max's past is his past. The horrible things he did were part of who he was, but clearly, this Max is not the same guy we saw in 521. He has found someone who has changed him (for the better, there's no denying that he's a better person now than he used to be). I think Liz is truly lucky to have him with her, even if they'll be living in crap, because at least she has a guy that'll treat her right and do everything he can to make her happy. I'd say that's a bajillion times better than having a huge mansion, but having a husband that beats or neglects you.

You know, when I started planning out the sequel, I pretty much knew there were going to be two Max Camps: the camp that thinks his past is his past and he can be a better person and the camp that thinks he's an irredeemable monster. So it's interesting to hear both sides. As a writer, I myself am somewhere in the middle. I have very conflicted feelings about this character I've created. I think it's probably better for everyone in the story to try to let him move on from his past so that he can be the best person he possibly can be. That sounds cheesy, but it's true.

Neve:

(Funny how the name of the gallery is also the name of an explosive)

Oh my god, I didn't think about this once. Like at all. Oh goodness, it was supposed to be a reference to their Core Four nickname, but now I'm thinking dynamite. I guess we could spin it and say that Michael is explosive in bed. Heck yeah.

Already Max is growing and showing that he's learning to be humble if he's willing to take a job at McDonalds for Liz's sake. I want to see what she is willing to do for him though.

Hmm, so do I. It's possible that Max may be willing to do more for Liz than she is willing to do for him because she's sort of the one who saved him from himself.

Rodney:

Okay this guy only wanting to buy with Kyle wouldnt have bothered me that much.I mean sometimes we like to buy stuff from certain people,but this guy just gave me a bad vibe in this last chapter.

Yeah, sometimes you find a salesperson you like and you try to buy from that same person again because you develop a rapport. But I'm glad you got a bad vibe in the last part, because you were supposed to. This plot is going to be revealed in the next few parts coming up, which take place primarily at the Sex Sells auction.


Thanks for the feedback! I really appreciate it!


Big music day today. The lyrics in this part are to the song "Isabel" by Frank Turner, the acoustic version. I discovered this song by accident when I was searching for songs called "Isabel" to use as Billy's Isabel song, and I ended up really loving it. The only bad thing is that I can't find a version of it on Youtube, and because of some issues with the MP3 I downloaded, I can't upload it on Youtube. So here is a Youtube version you can listen to: "Isabel" Cover This is a very nice cover by some guy. Alternatively, if you'd like, you can download the song from Sendspace while it's available: "Isabel" Download I uploaded it there just for you guys. Or you can just read the lyrics. Or you can skim right over the lyrics. Whatever you like.

Anyway, enjoy, and I'll be back with another update in a few days!








Part 34









Michael had never had a particularly wild Halloween. Prior to meeting Maria, he’d spent most of his Halloweens at home handing out candy. There had been a few years when he’d gone to bar parties with Isabel and the year when Maria had thrown a rager in his otherwise tame apartment. But ever since then, Halloween had become a holiday, much like other holidays, devoted entirely to his kids. This was going to be the first Halloween that Miley would actually remember. It was a big deal.

He sat on the couch with Macy that evening while Maria dressed Miley in her costume upstairs. “Yeah, you ready for your first Halloween?” he asked in his patented baby-talk voice. He bounced Macy up and down on his knee, and she smiled. She was wearing a little purple and green jester’s costume, and when she bounced, the bells on the tips of her hat jingled. She giggled at the sound and reached out with one hand to grab his nose. “Oh, what’s that?” he said. “You got my nose? You got my nose.”

“Dada,” she cooed.

He smiled. God, he loved being a dad.

“Ahem.” Maria cleared her throat, and he glanced over his shoulder and saw her standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Now presenting Miss Miley Guerin.”

Miley walked down the stairs slowly, holding onto the railing. She was dressed up in a puffy pink gown, white high heels that didn’t have more than half an inch of a heel in them, and a fake rhinestone crown. Her hair was curled, and she was beaming. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, Maria handed her a glittery wand with a star and streamers on the end.

“Wow,” Michael said. “Is-is that my daughter? ‘Cause she looks like a princess.”

Miley laughed. “That’s my costume, Daddy.”

“You look great, sweetheart,” he told her. “Ready to go?”

She nodded eagerly, but Maria held them up. “Wait, we have to get pictures,” she said, hustling back upstairs.

“Do we hafta?” Miley slouched.

“Come here,” he said, motioning for her to join him on the couch.

She climbed up beside him and pouted.

“You look really pretty, you know that?” He put one arm around her.

“Yeah,” she said, “but Mama won’t let me wear makeup.”

“Yeah, you’re too young for that,” he agreed. Miley easily could have been a beauty pageant kid, but that just never ended well.

Maria came back downstairs a moment later with their digital camera in hand. “Okay, let’s get you girls sitting on the couch,” she said.

Michael got up and set Macy back down on the cushion. She started to tip to the side, so he put a pillow behind her to keep her upright.

“God, they look so cute,” Maria exclaimed. “Miley, cross your legs and move in closer to your sister.”

Miley scooted closer to Macy and crossed her legs at her ankles.

“Fix your crown, sweetie,” Maria instructed.

Miley reached up and moved her crown onto the direct center of her head.

“You know what?” Maria said. “We should send out Christmas cards this year just so we can put this picture in all the cards. And then all our extended family members can be envious because their kids aren’t as cute as our kids. Wouldn’t that be great?” She squealed in delight.

“Mama, hurry up,” Miley whined impatiently.

Michael grabbed the camera from her and quickly snapped a picture. “Perfect,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Miley hopped down off the couch and ran to the front door, picking up her pillowcase, where the plan was for her to stash all her candy. If she got half as much candy as she hoped she would, she was going to have a hard time carrying that thing back home.

Michael handed the camera back to Maria and picked up Macy. He set her down in her stroller and wondered how much candy people would be willing to give her. He checked his sweatshirt pockets. Oh, yeah, he had plenty of room. He and Maria would be feasting tonight. And all that candy that was too dangerous for Miley to eat because it was too hard . . . that would end up being theirs, too.

“Wait a minute.” Maria pulled open the linen closet and took out two crowns. One was nearly identical to Miley’s, only bigger. The other was a cheap paper crown from Burger King. She handed the Burger King one to him and set the other atop her head. “King and queen,” she explained.

He laughed and put the crown on. He looked ridiculous, but hell, it was Halloween. Everyone looked ridiculous.

“Come on!” Miley called, halfway hanging out the door. “We’re gonna miss all the good candy!”

“We’re coming,” he assured her, pushing Macy’s stroller across the living room. He nudged Maria’s side and joked, “Hey, we’re the royal family.”

“Uh-huh,” she agreed, “you know it.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tess jumped out of the bathroom and did a little cheer in her costume. “K-Y-L-E. What’s that spell? Kyle!” She jumped up and down with her pom-poms and kicked her right leg in the air. “What do you think?” she asked her husband. She’d chosen to dress up as a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader this year. She looked exactly like one in her booty-hugging white shorts, blue long-sleeved midriff, and white vest. The shorts did wonders for her butt and the top really elevated her breasts. The white cowboy boots made her legs look like miles, and for someone as short as her, that was quite the accomplishment.

“I think you look really good,” he said.

“I know, right? The Cowboys so want me.” Her excitement diminished slightly when she noticed his football jersey, shoulder pads, and helmet lying untouched behind him on the bed. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

He picked up the jersey, looked at it, then set it back down again. “It’s just . . . why are we dressing up?” he asked. “We’re not kids anymore.”

“So? It’s Halloween. It’s not like there’s an age limit.”

“I just think we’ve done the Halloween club scene before, and I seem to recall that last year all I got out of it was a fat lip and a wedgie. Maybe this year--”

“You wanna work tonight, don’t you?” she interrupted, cutting to the chase.

“Well, I don’t want to, but . . .”

“Yes, you do. That’s all you ever wanna do these days.”

“No, I wanna spend Halloween with you, but I have to get things read for the auction.”

She shook her head angrily. What kind of guy wanted to work on a holiday, and on one of the most fun holidays of the year no less? “Forget it,” she said, sick of him using the auction as an excuse. “I’ll just go by myself.” She picked up her purse and stormed downstairs. He didn’t bother to follow her.

She hovered near the entryway, not sure what her plan was now. She didn’t want to go clubbing without Kyle. She’d end up spending the night warding off sexually frustrated losers and wishing she wasn’t alone.

Michael and Maria were walking by when she looked out the front window. Something was wrong with the back left wheel on Macy’s stroller. Michael was bending down to fix it and Miley was pointing to the house across the street.

Tess flung open the door and called, “Hey, you guys, can I tag along?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Miley led the way that night, literally running from one house to the next. Luckily she wasn’t used to the shoes she was wearing, so she didn’t run very fast and the rest of them were able to keep up. Michael followed behind her, pushing Macy’s stroller, and Maria and Tess brought up the rear. Maria spent most of her time co-ranting about Kyle and taking pictures of Miley getting her candy. But mostly co-ranting.

“I can’t believe your own husband ditched you on Halloween,” she said. “And to go to work of all things.” Kyle had always been kind of lame, but this was just exceptionally lame.

“I know,” Tess said. “I was shocked, too.”

“Hey, you guys need to cut him some slack,” Michael said, apparently listening in. “Once he’s done with this auction, he’ll be back to his usual self.”

“He hasn’t been his usual self for a long time,” Tess said. “And look at you. The auction’s not stressing you out.”

“That’s ‘cause I get to leave work at work,” he pointed out. “Kyle handles a lot more of the logistics.”

“Wait a minute, why are you defending him when he’s being such a poopface?” Maria jumped in. “You’re supposed to be on our side.”

“I am on your side.”

“I mean, you would never abandon me on a holiday as sacred as Halloween, would you?”

He made a face. “Since when is Halloween sacred?”

“Since now, okay? Just humor me.”

“Yes, malady.” He turned around and bowed.

“Wow, the king bowing to the queen,” Tess remarked. “I like that.”

Maria made a whipping sound and cracked and invisible whip with her hand.

“Can we stop here?” Miley asked, pointing to a house a few feet away with its porch light on.

“Go score some sugar,” Maria told her.

“Trick or treat!” she yelled, running up to the house, plowing through anyone who was in her way.

Maria lifted Macy out of her stroller and handed her to Michael. “Here, take her up there,” she said, “score some extra candy.” She used to hate those parents that used their babies to get candy until she realized what a genius idea it was.

She and Tess stood back while Michael and the girls collected sugary goodness on the porch. “Your costume’s really cute, you know,” she told her friend.

“Yeah,” Tess agreed, tugging down on her shorts. “But I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

It was definitely a skimpy, sexy costume. Unfortunately, the only boys ogling Tess were of the pre-pubescent species. “Was Kyle gonna be a football player?” she asked.

Tess frowned disappointedly. “The quarterback. He was supposed to throw several balls into my end zone tonight.”

Maria couldn’t help but laugh. “Ew, gross.”

Tess laughed momentarily, too, but then all of a sudden her expression changed and she looked sad again. “I’m starting to get really worried, Maria,” she confessed.

“About you and Kyle?”

Tess just looked at her and didn’t say anything. Before Maria could press any farther, Michael, Miley, and Macy returned.

“We should circle around the block and come back here,” Michael suggested. “They’re handin’ out the good stuff. Snickers, Hershey’s, Reese’s . . .”

“Let’s go!” Miley yelled, taking off again.

“Miley, stay close to us,” Maria called after her. She caught sight of two familiar y-chromosomes coming down the sidewalk in the opposite direction and cursed, “Oh, crap,” when she saw Garret. Alex was with him.

“Miley!” Michael yelled, but she ran right up to Garret and hugged him.

Maria scurried after her and pulled her away from him. “Sorry about that,” she said. “Hey, Alex.”

“Hey,” he returned. He smiled at Maria, then tried to keep that smile in place as he greeted Michael. “Hey, Michael.” He hung his head as though he were intimidated.

“Hey, Alex.” Michael spoke with a friendly tone, not hostile or intimidating at all. But Maria had no doubt Isabel’s ‘I love Michael’ monologues were roaring through Alex’s head.

“I see you had the same idea we did,” she said, motioning to Garret.

“Oh, yeah, this is his first year dressing up.” Alex placed one hand on his son’s shoulder.

“And he’s a prince. And Miley’s a princess.” Maria looked up at Michael, smiling despite how uncomfortable the costume coincidence made her. “Hmm.”

“Isabel wanted to throw a sheet over his head and call him a ghost, but . . . he wanted a real costume,” Alex said.

“Well, he looks very nice.” Maria glanced down at the kids. They were jabbering about something that seemed only to pertain to the two of them. They didn’t know about the bad blood between their families, but even if they had, they probably would have kept talking.

“Come on, Miley,” she said. “We’ve got some more houses to hit.”

The same little girl who could barely wait to get going that evening now seemed reluctant to go any farther. “Bye,” she said quietly, waving to Garret as they continued on their way.

“Bye,” he said, waving back to her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After all was said and done that evening, Miley ended up with a vast array of chocolates, sweet candies, sour candies, hard candies, chewy candies, and popcorn balls. She sat on the living room floor and sorted through everything she’d gotten, eating a few things until she finally slumped over onto her side and fell asleep. Michael carried her upstairs and tucked both her and Macy in for the night, then came back down and helped Maria sort out what candy they were going to let Miley have from what they were going to take for themselves. Once that was done, they had some wine, ate some Jolly Ranchers, and then went upstairs to cap off the night with a little—or a lot—of sex.

Maria changed into a black lace teddy in the bathroom and covered it up with a long black robe. When she opened the door to the bathroom, he was already sitting shirtless on the bed. She untied the robe and opened it on each side, giving him a peek of what was underneath.

He grinned. “And what do you call that costume?”

“Hmm, temptress?” She slowly removed the robe and let it drop to the floor. She swayed towards him, feeling the hottest she’d felt in a long time. It was fun to be seductive. “Do you want tricks,” she asked, slinging her leg across his lap, “or treats?” She trailed her fingers in between her breasts, loving the way his eyes followed every move they made.

“Both?” he tried.

“Both can be arranged.” She draped her arms over his shoulders and brought her lips down onto his.

“What do you want?” he murmured.

“I want you to throw your balls into my end zone,” she blurted.

He laughed. “What?”

“It’s a line. Just go with it.”

“Okay.” He placed his hands on her hips and kissed her again. She had a damn near uncontrollable urge to ride him until they both passed out from exhaustion.

That plan got shot to hell when Miley yelled, “Daddy!” at the top of her lungs. And a moment later, “Monster!”

They froze mid-kiss.

“Daddy!”

“Okay, this sounds bad, but maybe you shouldn’t go check on her,” Maria said. “Then she’ll know you won’t come running every time she calls.”

“But I will come running every time she calls. That’s like my duty as a dad.” He sighed, lifted her off him, and stood up. “Don’t start without me,” he warned as he slipped out of the room.

She wrapped her arms around herself, cold without him enveloping her. She went over to the window, pulled back the curtains, and looked out. There were still a few trick-or-treaters across the street. A little girl dressed as a cheetah was walking hand-in-hand with her mom and an older woman who must have been her grandmother. When Maria saw them, she couldn’t help but think of her own mom.

Michael came back in a minute later. “Alright, it’s a Halloween miracle,” he announced. “She was asleep when I got in there.”

She spun around. “Michael,” she said. “Let’s go to Vegas.”

He looked taken aback. “Vegas?” he echoed. “To get married?”

“No, to see my mom. She wasn’t able to be here on Miley’s birthday, and phone conversations can only get so riveting.” She really wanted to see her face-to-face again, just in case . . .

“Alright, we’ll go for Thanksgiving,” he said.

“No. Sooner.” She realized Thanksgiving was only three weeks away, but three weeks seemed like such a long time when cancer was involved. “I wanna surprise her. I think she’d like that.”

“Uh . . . okay,” he said slowly. “It’s a little last minute but . . . yeah, we could go after the auction. Driving or flying?”

“Hmm, well, I have been itching to join the mile high club,” she thought out loud. “But driving’s cheaper.”

He came towards her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You’re not a member already?”

“No, are you?”

“No. See, I knew we should’ve done it on the plane to Hawaii.”

“Ew, those bathrooms smelled like burrito, though,” she reminded him.

He smiled at her. “You know, you might wanna pack a wedding dress, just in case we get tempted.”

“Well, I am the temptress.” She smoothed her hands up his chest and rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him. She felt his tongue brush against her bottom lip as they stumbled towards the bed. “No, but seriously, we’re not getting married there,” she told him. “That’s so redneck, Michael. That’s so redneck.”

He hoisted her up into his arms and they fell together onto the bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The devil had never looked so good.

Isabel donned a sexy satanic costume to Grunge that evening. The top was black, leather, and practically a corset. The red miniskirt around her waist was more like the size of a belt, and the fishnet stockings and red high heels did wonders for her already wonderful limbs. She’d purchased white feathery wings from an angel costume and died them red to match, and of course no devil costume was complete without the two little horns on top her head. Most of the other girls at the club were dressed as witches or Playboy bunnies, and a handful had come in their natural state, which could best be described as Courtney Love.

A guy dressed as a caveman—leopard-print skirt and everything—came up to her at the bar and tried to introduce himself. “Hey, I’m--”

“Not interested,” she snapped.

“But I--”

“Not interested,” she snapped again. He called her a bitch and walked away. Billy approached her a moment later and asked, “Was that guy bothering you?”

“No.” She lifted the cowboy hat off his head and placed it atop her horns.

“Nice,” he said.

She handed it back to him and put it back on his head. He looked . . . actually really good tonight. He was wearing a dirty white t-shirt and torn jeans. Nothing special, but far more impressive than what any of the other guys were dressed as. There was a whole table of losers in the corner who actually thought clowns were hot. Each one was wearing a different colored nose.

“Well, I’m about to go on,” he said. “Wish me luck?”

“Good luck.” She’d heard him sing before. He was going to need all the luck he could get to impress this drunk, sexed-up crowd.

He turned his head to the side. She rolled her eyes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He needed to shave, but the stubble was strangely enticing.

“By the way,” he said, “I think you’re an angel, not a devil.”

“Whatever,” she said, but it wasn’t until he was gone that she thought about what he’d just said. He didn’t sound like he was kidding.

He went backstage, and a few minutes later, the club’s manager cut the music, got up on stage, and said very unenthusiastically, “Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming to the stage Billy Darden.”

A few people clapped. Isabel leaned back against the bar and watched as he slung his guitar over his shoulder and sat down on a stool behind the microphone.

“Hey, Happy Halloween, everyone,” he said, giving his guitar a few test strums. “This song’s called ‘Isabel.’” His eyes met hers for a brief moment, and then he started playing. The music was instantly soft and mellow, completely the opposite of what usually played in Grunge. It was just him and his guitar. She could barely hear his acoustic guitar over the sound of the people talking. She wanted to yell at them to shut up. Didn’t they know the song was about her?

“So now the years are rolling by
It’s not long since you and I
Could’ve been train drivers and astronauts.”

She turned towards the bar when the bartender came her way and had him pour her a glass of . . . well, whatever he was serving. It didn’t really matter. She wanted something to drown her sorrows in when the song inevitably got worse. Because even though Billy loved music, he couldn’t write it to save his life. She’d heard the ‘Maria’ song. It had to be one of the worst pieces of music ever written, right up there with all of Ricky Martin’s stuff.

“But now we’re stuck in furnished ruts
And yet the thing that really cuts
Is that we can’t remember how we got caught.”

Two solid stanzas. Well, wonders never ceased. She never would have expected Billy to know how to string so many sentences together, let alone sentences that rhymed. She alternated looking at the liquid in her glass and looking at him. She didn’t want to distract him. Although that didn’t seem to be a problem. He was really . . . feeling it.

“Muffled sighs and might-have-beens
Filtered air, computer screens
Count your blessings, and breathe
Count to ten.”

His lips moved around the microphone as though he weren’t just saying the words, but he was living them. But Billy never lived his music. It was what was always going to prevent him from making it big.

Good God, how many drugs had he done before the show tonight? He was either high as a kite or channeling Kurt Cobain’s spirit, and drugs seemed far more likely.

“And though it doesn’t often show
We are scared because we know
Our forefathers were farmers and fishermen.”

She raised her glass to her lips and took a drink. The people around her had quieted down now, and most of them were focused on Billy. This was a far cry from the going-nowhere guy whom she’d met a year ago sitting on the sidewalk with an open guitar case. This was . . . good. The kind of good where she had no idea what the lyrics meant and every idea what they meant at the same time.

“And so the world has changed
Worse or better’s hard to tell
But my hope remains
Within the arms of Isabel.”

The chorus was understated, but it made itself known. And it made itself known most loudly to her, because she took in a sharp breath when she heard him sing her name. It sounded nothing like it did when most people said it. They said it when they were annoyed with her or when they wanted something sexual. He was saying it just to say it, and it came from so deep inside him that it made the crowd cheer loudly.

She dropped her glass on the floor and it broke apart at her feet. She stared at the shards of glass as Billy strummed away. He had so obviously committed every portion of this song to memory. There was no part of it that wasn’t part of him, and that was a little scary.

“So now our calloused hands once told
A story honest as it’s old
Of sewing seams and setting sail.”

She watched his hands shift from one chord to the next, and she thought of his hands on her. They weren’t like Michael’s hands. Michael had paint on his hands a lot. Michael got paint on her. Michael was an artist. Billy was . . . a different kind of artist. But he wasn’t supposed to be good.

“And now our hands are soft and weak
Working seven days a week
These salvation schemes are bound to fail.”

She looked around nervously, wondering if people were looking at her and thinking she was this majestic, flawless person Billy was singing about. Because she wasn’t. Even though she liked to pretend she was, she knew she had flaws, and she knew those flaws had messed her up big time. Billy should have been singing about that.

“And so the world has changed
Worse or better’s hard to tell
But my hope remains
Within the arms of Isabel.”

His eyes came open and he gazed at her as he sang. She wanted to look away from him, but she couldn’t. She wanted to run outside and get some air, but her feet wouldn’t move. She felt the wings of her costume trembling and swore internally. God, she was dressed up as a freaking devil. Didn’t he get that? Didn’t that mean anything to him? If she’d wanted to dress up as an angel, she would have, but that wasn’t her, and he wasn’t supposed to see her that way.

Her stomach clenched when he sang her name again.

“And I’ll admit that I am scared
Of what I don’t understand
But darling, if you’re there
Gentle voice and soothing hand.”

She shut her eyes and thought of Michael. Michael, who didn’t do drugs. Michael, who had a job. Michael, who was capable of being a good father. Michael, whose hands felt like satin. Michael, whose mouth felt like heaven. Michael, who was an adult. Michael, who was a man. Michael, who was good. Michael, who set her heart on fire and never looked back.

Billy was nothing like him.

Billy was easy.

Billy was bad.

Billy was convenient.

Billy was not supposed to be singing about her like this.

“Quiet my despair
To shore up all my plans
Darling, if you’re there . . .”

He knew the rules. He knew this wasn’t going to amount to anything great. He knew they’d tire of each other soon and that she’d go back to Michael someday. He knew this was only a way to pass the time. He knew that. She couldn’t have made it any clearer.

And he couldn’t have connected with his audience any more. They were all transfixed on him. Some were even out of their seats.

“And so the world has changed
And I must change as well.”

With one strum of the instrument in his arms, the entire room fell silent, except for his lyrics. She gazed at him up on that stage, and she felt . . . terrified. Like she couldn’t breathe. Like she didn’t want to.

“And the machines we’ve raised
Will damn us into hell.”

Maybe she never should have stopped to listen to him on the sidewalk that day. Men were rarely a good addition to her life, and Billy was no different.

“And so the time has come
When all must save themselves.”

She should have never started this thing. All the energy she exerted with him could have been directed towards Michael. And Michael was what mattered. She should have let Billy suffer that DUI charge and rot in jail. Because what did she care?

“And I will save my soul
Within the arms of Isabel.”

She blinked back tears. He was singing about something that would never happen. How could she save his soul when she could barely even locate her own?

The crowd went wild, hollering for him and rushing up towards the stage as he played the last bars of his song.

“Mmm-hmm-mmm.”

But even the midst of all the commotion, he was just looking at her. Normally she liked to be the center of his attention, but this was too much. Too much attention.

“Thank you,” Billy said into the microphone, grabbing his guitar and giving a backwards wave to the crowd as he headed backstage again. Isabel just stood there like a statue, unable to move. Now that she’d heard the song, she had no choice but to admit what she’d never wanted to be true.

Billy was in love with her.








TBC . . .

-April

Novy, you're stalking! Yay!

Well, here I am. I'll update again on Monday. Monday’s update is kind of an intense one.


Leila:

Quo vadis, Isabel?

Okay, you're going to have to tell me what that means. Does that mean "what are you going to do?"

ETA: I don't know if it was coincidence but the download link took me to a porn site. Thank you.

It didn't really, did it? I click on it and it takes me right to Sendspace. Your computer's probably just so used to going to porn sites that it goes there automatically!

PS: I miss you.

I miss you, too!

Ellie:

something tells me - Isabel is going to Billy's Michael fixation, if she isn't already.

Hmm, I hadn't really thought of it like that, but that's the perfect analogy.

What is this obsession he has with work? Or is he using that as an excuse?

I’m inclined to think so. Kyle is proud of his career, and lately he’s been spending so much time on it because he doesn’t want to have to deal with other things in his life.

Guel:

where is liz? home at her parents?

No, she’s still there.

with your trailers i had the feeling that tess and max would end up together at least for one night, but he isnt staying there, now im trying to think about another twist with them. But one of them, liz or max is gonna cheat, arent they?

Don’t worry, I will never ever put Max and Tess together again in this fic. That would reflect so badly on Tess after what he did to Maria. As for Max and Liz . . . much drama coming their way, and they aren’t as stable or functional as Michael and Maria are right now, so it will hopefully be interesting to see how they handle (or don’t handle) it.

I really think Isabel cares for Billy. She looked touched by the song and it almost seemed like she concentrated on his feelings because she was denying her own feelings.

Yeah, Isabel never talks about her own feelings for Billy, does she? She tends to deny that they even exist. I think as much as she was freaked out by the song, she probably was a little amazed that he would write such things about her.

Novy:

This whole concept of someone being in love with Isabel fascinates me. I guess Michael had at some point and maybe even Alex. But she kind of hid her true evilness to from them though but Billy sees it all and loves her any way.

Billy’s messed up in that way, isn’t he? But I guess the argument can be made that they really should be together because he’s the only person who loves her for who she truly is.

What fascinates me even more is she has no idea how to take people loving her. When things were good between Michael and her she ran and went to Alex. Then when things were getting real with Alex she ran back to Michael.

That’s a great observation. Looking back on her life, Isabel was never even really loved by her own father, so it makes sense that she wouldn’t know how to handle romantic love from a man.

I downloaded Flowers for a Ghost by Thriving Ivory after watching your awesome candy video. It's my new favourite song.

I’m glad you like it. It’s such a pretty song.

BB:

The Royal family are so adorable. It makes me want a Miley and Macy of my own. And a Michael too.

Me, too. But a couple years down the line. I think I’ll take a Michael right now, though. I’d just have to put three condoms on him.

Maybe part of the reason she's so fixated on Michael is because he was the first person in her life to love her.

Michael’s a great guy, so you can’t really blame her for being so into him, but I think that you’re definitely onto something here. Maybe if Alex had been the first person to love her, she would have fixated on him.

It's funny how Kyle, who was always so immature is suddenly showing himself to be an adult while Tess is proving to be a big baby.

Definitely a role-reversal. I think Tess is just so used to Kyle treating her like his “goddess” that she doesn’t know how to react when he doesn’t give her what she wants.

Neve:

I guess if Maria is planning on hoping on joining the mile high club with Michael that means the girls won't be going with them to Vegas? That's probably a good thing because seeing Amy as she is now will be upsetting enough for Maria without also having to deal with Miley's distress.

The Vegas trip is going to happen very soon, and it’s definitely going to upset Maria to see her mother’s current condition.

The Isabel and Billy thing is so fascinating. She's been totally evil so far and now we might get to see the human side of Isabel. It's very exciting.

I keep promising that there are more layers to Isabel, that there is a more human side that will eventually be revealed. And when it is . . . dare I say it, you might even feel a little bit sorry for her. For a moment, at least.

dreambeliever:

Kyle and Tess seem to be both 'misbehaving'. Tess is being a bit immature about the whole situation and Kyle is being too .....hmmm....can't seem to find the word...'hard...closed off....' he obviously has issues and they have yet to talk about it, he just seems to want to brush it all under the rug and ignore it.

I agree with this. Kyle and Tess are both not making things any easier on each other, and it’s frustrating because if they just sat down and talked through their feelings and quit blaming each other, they could work it out.

Rodney:

Kyle-What Tess is not understanding for men there is more to us about having a baby than just making said baby.Women worry about will they make a good mom.For men there is the old passed on down feeling of MALE/DAD responsibility about having to be successful in supporting the baby.Sure times have changed where the mom might make the money in the family now but the male feelings are still there.So he sees this new project at the studio as having to be successful for him to support his family.

That’s a great point. Kyle’s young and his life is on a very traditional, well-thought out trajectory right now—marriage & career, then kids. He doesn’t want to rush into anything, and he feels like that is was Tess is pressuring him to do.

Tess-Now having said all of that about while Kyle is working hard I dont think it would have hurt him to take one day off to have some fun or have some fun with his wife.

Exactly. I admittedly would be a little pissed off if my man skipped out on a fun holiday with me, too.

Thanks for the feedback! I really appreciate it.









Part 35








In retrospect, Tess’s lackluster Halloween might have been a good thing. She had a lot of energy and appeared very well-rested when it was time to spend the next day setting up the gallery for the auction. Maria, on the other hand, was exhausted. But if sex with Michael was the reason for her exhaustion, then she wanted to be tired every single day for the rest of her life.

“Do you really think this place is gonna be auction-ready by tomorrow night?” Tess asked as she adjusted the table cloth covering the display tables.

Maria yawned and nodded. “Yep, think positive, Tess.”

“Thinking positive.” She pulled the table cloth down farther in the front, then made a face, shook her head, and pulled it down farther in the back. “So how’s Marty feel about baby-sitting?”

“Oh, he loves it. Whenever Miley sleeps over with him, they blast the Divas Live CD and dance around in matching dresses.” She’d read about how that could alter a child’s gender schema, but . . . whatever. With Marty, gender was an all-around blurry concept. “He is a little bummed he had to cancel his date with Jimmy, though.”

“Jimmy? Max’s Jimmy?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate that nickname.”

“The Jimmy who worked for Max,” Tess rephrased. “He was at their wedding, right?”

“Uh . . . yeah, I guess he was.” Maria had totally spaced that off. He’d been so . . . forgettable. But if Marty saw something in him, that was all that mattered. “Huh, he walked with me down the aisle. Ew, and that Roger creeper walked with you, remember?”

Tess made a face of disgust.

“You know, I’ve blocked out the majority of that day, except for that catfight I had with Isabel, which I totally think I won, by the way.” Sure, Isabel had given her a black eye, but she’d given her a little bald spot. Which one was more permanent?

“Well, I may be biased, but I agree,” Tess said as Michael and Kyle came in from outside. “Hey, did you guys get all the fliers distributed?”

“Yep. Cross your fingers some people actually show up,” Michael said, crossing his fingers as he spoke.

“They will,” Kyle assured him confidently. “I’ve been advertising it on the website for weeks.”

“The website?” Tess echoed. “You guys have a website?”

“Every good business has a website.” Kyle sounded as though he were quoting a layman’s textbook.

“Not mine,” Tess pointed out, and Kyle didn’t say anything.

Michael came up to Maria and kissed the side of her head. “Where’s Miley?” he asked.

“Asleep in your office with Macy. She drew you this, though.” Maria went over to the counter and picked up a folded piece of paper Miley had scribbled on. The front said To Daddy in shaky handwriting and on the inside was a drawing of the two of them—stick figures, of course, with the legs coming straight out of the neck—and Frank.

“That’s awesome,” Michael said, proudly setting the card atop the counter for everyone to see when they walked in tomorrow night.

Maria was about to tell him how tired she was (and thank him for making her so tired so many times last night) when she noticed Tess climbing up on the ladder to string purple streamers from the ceiling. (Kyle had objected to purple and called it a gay color, but Tess convinced him that it was the new “in” thing.) “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Maria said cautiously. “Tess, if you’re pregnant, you shouldn’t be climbing a ladder.”

“No worries. I’m still not pregnant,” Tess said, shooting her husband a look.

“Kyle, be a spotter,” Maria ordered. He obediently moved behind the ladder to catch her if she were to fall.

After a moment of silence in which the only sounds were the sounds of masking tape being peeled, Michael suddenly blurted, “I think it’s funny you can’t masturbate anymore.”

“You swore you wouldn’t say anything!” Kyle hissed.

“What?” Maria exclaimed. “You can’t masturbate? Like physically can’t or won’t or . . .”

“It’s not allowed,” he grumbled.

“Interferes with conception,” Tess explained perkily.

“Oh, I see.” Maria laughed, not sure if Kyle was capable of such a feat. She turned to Michael and remarked, “The palm of his hand’s not gonna know what to think.”

“Ha, ha,” Kyle deadpanned. “Hand me The Ass.”

Maria startled, looking down at her own buttocks.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s a painting.”

“Oh.” That made a lot more sense. “Let’s see here . . .” She made her way over to the crates housing all the paintings they planned to auction off and searched through for the one he was looking for. When she found it, it was hard to miss. “Ah, The Ass.” It was exactly what it sounded like, a painting of a gigantic ass. “Classy stuff.” She handed it to him.

“It’ll sell big, though, mark my words,” Kyle promised.

Michael motioned to the painting and said, “Did Sir Mix-a-lot paint that?” He laughed at his own joke, but when no one else laughed, he mumbled, “I thought it was funny.”

“I cracked up on the inside,” Maria promised.

“Oh, Sir Mix-a-lot,” Tess said. It finally registered. “Got it. Good one, Michael.”

“Thank you, Tess.”

Maria looked through a few more of the paintings and took out one medium-sized one that was particularly beautiful. “Now, see, this . . .” She held it up for the others to see. “This is my kind of painting. It’s beautiful.” It was of a naked man and a woman. Her head was thrown back and he was kissing her neck.

“That’s one of Brandon’s,” Kyle said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Augustus comes by and bids a small fortune on it.”

“You think he will?” Michael said.

“I hope so, don’t you?”

Michael shifted his weight and didn’t say anything.

“It’s called First Kiss,” Maria said, reading the attached tag. “Wow, some first kiss, huh? Mine was nothing like that.”

“Yours was in kindergarten,” Tess pointed out, still stringing streamers.

“Exactly. Slobbery stuff.”

“I wasn’t that slutty. I waited until first grade,” Tess proclaimed.

Maria laughed. “Marty was, like, two.”

“Did he kiss another boy?” Tess asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

Michael smiled and shook his head. “When did he know he was gay?”

“When he came out of the womb.” Why anyone had been shocked when he’d officially come out was a huge mystery.

“Have either of you two ever . . . you know, kissed another girl?” Kyle asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Maria answered at the same time Tess said, “Lots of times.”

Kyle motioned between the two of them and asked, “Each other?”

Maria sighed. “A couple times back in high school.”

“There was some alcohol involved,” Tess asked, carefully climbing down from the ladder.

“We were trying to impress a boy.”

“That’s right, we were trying to impress a boy.”

“Oh, I bet he was impressed.” Kyle’s eyes lit up as though he were envisioning it. “Was it just a peck on the cheek or like a full-on make-out?”

Both girls fell silent and looked away from each other.

“Oh, no way. No way.” Kyle sounded excited enough to have just struck gold. “Are you serious? Care to demonstrate?”

“Good lord.” Tess walked right over to Maria, cupped her cheeks, and gave her a big smack on the lips, complete with the “Mwah!” sound effect. Maria laughed.

“Oh. Michael. We hit the jackpot today, man,” Kyle said. “We hit the jackpot.”

“Now you two have to do the same,” Maria said, waving her finger at each of the boys.

“Oh, god no.” Kyle headed into a corner.

“Are you out of your mind?” Michael shrieked.

“That’s sick, girls. That’s really sick.”

Tess laughed. “Fine, we’ll let you two off the hook. This time. But on the subject of kisses . . .” She turned to Michael and asked, “Who was yours?”

“Uh, this girl named Patricia Clark,” he replied, “in the tenth grade. She came out of the closet a year ago.”

“Is she super butch now?” Maria asked.

“Actually, I heard she’s gettin’ a sex change.”

“Oh.” Maria cringed.

“That’s disturbing, man,” Kyle said. “That’s really disturbing.”

“I’m aware of this.”

“So . . .” Tess grabbed the yellow streamers and climbed back up onto the ladder, gesturing for Kyle to return to his spotter duties. “You’ve only slept with Maria and Isabel, right?”

“Let’s not say her name,” Maria suggested.

“Sorry. You’ve only slept with Maria and Schizobel, so what did you do with girls in high school when you took them out on dates? Or did you even go out on dates?”

“I went out on dates,” Michael confirmed.

“And did what?”

He shrugged. “Got to second base, I guess.”

“Oh, honey, nobody uses the base system anymore,” Maria informed him.

He chuckled. “Patricia and I made this pact to lose our virginity to each other on prom night, but she got distracted dancing with the prom queen. Looking back, big red flag.”

Maria coiled her fingers around his arm. “I can’t believe the girls weren’t, like, all over you.”

“Well, I wasn’t a bad boy.”

She grunted, even though bad boys had been her type for a long time. “What little fuckheads. Oh, well. They missed out; I lucked out.”

“Yeah, you did,” he agreed.

Tess kept working carefully to string the yellow streamers around the purple. “Do you realize we’ll be going to our high school reunions in a few years?” she said. “Oh, I hope I have baby pictures to show off by then.”

The ten-year high school reunion was a sobering thought, made Maria feel older than sin. “You know, Kyle, if you and Tess had never gotten together, you’d have gone to your reunion a twenty-eight year-old virgin,” she pointed out.

“No, I would’ve had sex with a blow-up doll by then,” he informed her.

“Ew.”

Tess smiled down at him. “Aw, I think it’s sweet that you’ve been with me and only me.”

“Yep. And the only other person I’ve kissed is Liz.”

“Liz-kissage. Another thing you and Max have in common,” Tess mumbled.

“Another thing?” He noticeably bristled. “What was the first thing?”

“Oh, Kyle . . . stop.”

“No, I wasn’t aware that we had anything in common, so please, I’d like to know.”

Maria took a step back, pulling Michael with her. She sensed a fight coming, and it was best to be out of the line of fire.

Tess climbed back down the ladder slowly. “All I meant by it is that he was very focused on his career, and lately you’re very focused on your career. He worked a lot, you work a lot.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“I didn’t say that.” Tess’s arms started to swirl around, a clear indicator of her mounting pissed off-edness. “But yeah, actually it is kind of a bad thing when having a baby should be your first and foremost priority.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not more like you.”

“Lately you’re not even like you.”

Maria mouthed a silent ‘Ooh.’ This was getting pretty heated. And honest. It was like watching a train wreck as it was happening.

“You know, when we have this baby you’re so excited about, and we’re able to provide for and spoil it, you’ll thank me for working so hard,” Kyle said.

“Michael provides for his kids and he doesn’t live, eat, and breathe work,” Tess pointed out.

“I don’t, either.”

“Yes, you do. Jesus Christ, Kyle, you worked on Halloween!”

“It’s just ‘cause of the auction.”

“I’m so sick and tired of you blaming everything on the auction! God, I didn’t sign up for Max 2.0.”

“Are you sure you’re not pregnant? ‘Cause you’re bein’ a real bitch.”

Maria’s mouth dropped open. That right there was grounds for a slap. “Whoa, okay, hold on,” she said, sneaking in between the two of them. “I’m having flashbacks to my parents’ marriage here.”

Tess grunted, shook her head angrily, and said, “Let’s just get everything set up.”

“Fine by me.” Kyle walked off in one direction while Tess walked off in the other.

Michael came to stand by Maria, apparently speechless. Maria only had one word for him. “Drama.”

He nodded emphatically in agreement.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I can’t believe my life’s come to this, Max thought miserably as he sat across from the manager of the nicest of the three McDonald’s chains in Santa Fe. This one had a Playland attached to it, which was basically just a whole lot of slides, bright colors, and a ball pit that probably resulted in more cases of pink eye each year than anything else in the city. Even though he hadn’t touched the food yet, Max had a feeling he’d never get the grease out from under his fingernails if he did.

“So, I only have one concern,” the manager said, chomping on his gum like a cow chewed its cud, “and that’s regarding the salary.”

“I’m open to discussion on that,” Max said in a rehearsed tone. That was what Isabel had told him to say.

“You must’ve made a lot of money running your own company,” the manager said, glancing over his application. “You won’t make half that much here.”

“I know.” Hell, he’d never make that much money again his life. He was . . . what was the word? Impoverished. He was impoverished now.

The manager set down the application, took out his gum, and stuck it on the rim of his ash tray as though he were going to resume chewing it later. “How much do you think you should be paid?” he asked.

Max shifted in his seat. “Well, I don’t know. What do you start people off at around here, fifty-thousand?”

The manager laughed and gave him a bug-eyed look as though that were an astronomical amount of money.

“What?” Did people actually settle for less?

Max walked out of McDonald’s a few minutes later, feeling confident that he hadn’t secured himself a job. If he hadn’t fucked up that last question, then maybe . . . but he really just wasn’t cut out for fast food.

He put on his jacket, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and trudged down the sidewalk towards his Honda. He hated his new car. Hated it. The steering wheel felt like it was about to fall off. What if that happened while he was driving down the freeway? Or over a bridge. Then what would he do, just take his foot off the gas and sit there as his crap car drove on its own accord off the side of the bridge and into the water, thereby causing him to meet a premature death by drowning?

Actually, that sounded pretty good.

He was just about back to his car when some little kid knocked into him. “Hey, watch it,” he snapped.

The kid, a tween-aged girl with long, stringy hair, kept her eyes downcast and kept walking.

Max grunted. He was one of the biggest jackasses he knew, and even he would have had the decency to say ‘Excuse me’ or ‘I’m sorry.’

The minor collision wasn’t even that big of a deal. He was just determined to be pissed off at anything and everything.

He got back to his car and noticed a ticket pinned beneath the busted up windshield wipers. His meter had expired during the interview, which hadn’t even been his fault because that dumbass manager had been half an hour late. He crumpled up the ticket and threw it down on the ground. It felt good to litter.

He looked around, hoping the same cop who’d written him that ticket was still nearby so that he could try to talk his way out of it. It was nearly an impossible task considering the fact that he had neither breasts nor a vagina, but it was worth a shot.

There wasn’t a cop in sight. He was about to give up on it and just drive home when he remembered he didn’t have one. He kicked the front of his car, and the hood ornament fell right off. He picked it up off the ground and lifted it up in the air, aiming towards the window of McDonald’s; but as he was doing so, he noticed the same idiot kid who had bumped into him crossing the street. She was still looking down at her feet, and there was a car zooming right towards her.

“Hey, watch out!” Max called, springing into action. He ran out onto the street, grabbed the girl, and pulled her over to the other side of the sidewalk just in time. The car honked its horn as it roared past.

“Holy fuck, kid,” he swore. “You gotta watch where the hell you’re going.” She just stared at him, a blank expression on her face. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “Are you retarded?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she said, using that same rehearsed tone he’d used in his job interview. With that, she turned and walked away from him, heading towards building marked Irvine Rec Center.

“You’re welcome,” Max muttered, thinking it might have been better to let her get run over. Watching a kid get killed might have made him feel better about his own horrible existence.

He glanced down and noticed two five dollar bills lying on the sidewalk. They probably belonged to that girl, probably dropped out of her pocket. He bent down, picked them up, and figured he had two options: He could either a) go into that rec center and give the money back to her like a good Samaritan or b) not. He shrugged and pocketed the cash. Ten bucks was ten bucks. These days, he needed everything he could get.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The auction was a huge success even before the bidding started. About two hundred people showed up, half of whom looked like rich art aficionados and the other half of whom were mostly young, college-aged kids who weren’t afraid to admit that they loved porn.

“Well, I guess the advertising worked,” Tess remarked. “Sex really does sell.” She was wearing a strapless, forest green dress that hit just above her knees and was cinched by a black belt at the waist.

“Yep, seems nobody can get enough butts and boobs and baby-making body parts,” Maria agreed. “Myself included.” She had opted to wear a halter dress. It was long, gold, and shimmery. Kyle had told them both to look their best because he’d read something about how business owners’ wives could actually do more business than anyone.

“Are you gonna bid on something?” Michael asked her.

“Hell yeah, the porn,” she replied. “Interracial Threesome looks like a classic, and I’ve heard that Black Dongs Don’t Fit in White Chicks is a can’t-miss. Plus it was shot in HD.”

“Ew,” Tess said, laughing. “Like we really need to see that much detail—oh, shut up, Kyle’s gonna talk.”

Kyle stepped up to the podium and tapped the microphone. “Testing, testing,” he said, garnering everyone’s attention. “Hello, welcome to the first annual—well, hopefully annual, if it’s a success this year—Sex Sells auction, the only event in town where you can get your classy artwork and your raunchy porn in the same place. The price is up to you, but in the words of every male porn character out there, ‘How far are you willing to go?’”

That got a little laugh out of everyone, and someone in the back screamed, “I love naked chicks!” at the top of his lungs.

“Me, too. Me, too,” Kyle agreed. “Before we get started, I’d like to take a moment to introduce myself. I’m Kyle Valenti, co-owner of this gallery. I hope you’ll all enjoy yourselves tonight and walk out of here feeling very . . . satisfied with your purchases.” He grinned. “Before this auction is officially underway, I’d like to point out Mr. Michael Guerin, right back there. Everybody say, ‘Hi, Michael.’”

Everyone turned around. “Hi, Michael.”

He waved at them.

“He runs the gallery with me. He’s really the one who’s got an eye for great artwork. If you need any assistance with anything tonight, please find one of us. Also, I’d, uh . . .” He cleared his throat as if he were about to say something big. “I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge someone who has been . . . my other half in this endeavor, someone who has supported me, had my back, and never once let me down.”

Tess held her hand to her chest and smiled.

“Mr. Ralph Ehlers, manager of Cockadoodle Doo, ladies and gentlemen.” Everyone applauded loudly as Ralph waved.

Tess looked as though someone had just sucker-punched her. Her shoulders slumped; it was like all the wind had just gone out of her. Even Maria had to admit she was surprised Kyle hadn’t said anything about her up there. Where was marriage etiquette 101 in all his business books?

“And that’s all I have to say. Let the auction begin,” Kyle proclaimed. Another round of applause.

Maria’s concern for her friend mounted, and she tried to do some damage control on Kyle’s behalf. “I’m sure he’ll thank you later,” she said. “You know how guys are, can’t ever get emotional in public.”

“Yeah,” Tess said. “That must be it.” She swallowed hard, blinking back noticeable tears. “Excuse me.” She handed her drink to Maria and scurried away, heading towards the bathroom. Maria didn’t try to go after her. She needed a little time alone.

“God, Michael,” she said. “This is bad. I’m really worried about them. They’re fighting a lot.”

“They’re just going through a rough patch,” he said. “They’ll be fine.”

“But what if they’re not? What if they get a divorce?”

“Tess and Kyle?” He made a face. “They’re not gonna get a divorce. They love each other.”

“And that’s always the tagline, isn’t it? ‘I love him but I’m not in love with him.’” Maria tossed back the rest of Tess’s drink and handed the empty glass to Michael.

“You worry too much,” he said.

“Hey, that’s my line. Stop it, you’re throwing our whole Dharma and Greg dynamic out of whack,” she accused.

“Okay, Dharma.”

“Okay, Greg.” She tugged downward on her dress just to show off a little more cleavage and asked, “We’re not gonna fight when we get married, are we? It’s always gonna be good like this?”

“Yeah,” he assured her. “We’re practically married already. Sometimes I slip and tell people your last name’s Guerin.”

“I can’t wait to be a Guerin.” The surname change was nearly four years in the making.

“I told you, Vegas.”

“And I told you, redneck.” She laughed. “No, we are gonna get married in a church, and it’s gonna be all traditional and elegant. Two things I’m not.”

“Ah, you can be pretty elegant.”

“Really? Temptress?”

“Well . . .” He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “Elegant and limber.”

She inhaled shakily and placed her hands on his chest. “Okay, you need to go sell some paintings because you’re getting me all hot and bothered right now.”

“Am I really?”

“Yeah, you and the porn.”

He smirked. “I strive for that.”

“Go sell paintings.”

“You go sell paintings.”

“Fine, I will,” she decided. “I’ll sell more than you.”

“Is that a challenge?” he asked. “Are we on?’

“Oh, we’re on.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’m gonna win,” he claimed confidently, backing away from her. “I’m a gallery owner after all; I do this for a living.”

“Yes, but I’m a lady,” she pointed out. “Beat that.” He smiled at her, and she giggled and headed towards the bidding tables. It was a shame her friends couldn’t enjoy this night together like she and Michael were.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was a rare, almost unheard of thing for Isabel not to want to have sex, but for some reason as she lay pinned beneath Billy on his living room couch that night, she didn’t want to have sex at all. In any way, shape, or form. She tried to convince herself that it was because it was lackluster now that Alex had found out about their affair, but she knew that wasn’t the real reason.

Billy brought up the real reason as he was sucking on the side of her neck. “So you really like the song?”

God, he’s like a vampire, she thought, trying to push him away a little.

“Is?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I liked it.” Michael used to call her Is. Oh, Michael . . .

“Really? You ain’t just sayin’ that?”

“No, I really like it,” she insisted, and that much was true. It was the kind of song she would have listened to back in high school when she’d been slightly more hopefully and optimistic than she was now. “It’s better than the mainstream crap on the radio and a thousand times better than your ‘Maria’ anthem.”

He stopped kissing her neck and smiled down at her. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He reached down and unzipped his pants, and Isabel shifted beneath him.

“It’s just a little deep is all. I didn’t expect that for you.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he said before adding, “And cum.”

She made a face. “What was it about?”

“You.”

Duh. “And?”

“The way I feel.”

“Which is . . .?” This didn’t have to be like yanking teeth.

“Look, Is . . .”

“No, you know what? I have to leave.” She slithered out from underneath him and clamored to her feet, straightening out her hair and her clothes. She had a feeling she knew where this was going, and once the L-word was officially out there, it was over.

“Leave? You just got here.”

“But I just remembered that Garret has a-a thing and I need to be there. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” She picked up her purse and started for the door.

“Isabel.”

She slowly turned around. Why did he have to feel anything?

“Are we alright?”

No. “Yeah.” She tried to smile reassuringly, but it probably looked just the opposite. She couldn’t think of anything else to say, and she was afraid if she said anything, she’d break up with him. She practically bolted out the door, unsure as to when or even if she’d ever be back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On her way home, Isabel drove past the C4 gallery. She noticed quite a crowd gathered inside, and her curiosity got the best of her. She whipped an illegal u-turn at the next intersection and drove back to the gallery, parking at the first available parking meter she could find. She sat in the car for a few minutes, figuring out how to work this. She wasn’t allowed to be anywhere near Michael, but she needed to be.

She dug around in her glove compartment and found a black, silk scarf. Not real silk, of course, but it fooled most people. She quickly put her hair up in a bun and draped the scarf around her head. Then she took her sunglasses out of her purse and put them on, even though it was nighttime. It was possible that by trying to look incognito, she’d stand out even more, but she sure as hell couldn’t go in there blatantly looking like herself.

She got out of the car and made her way towards the gallery. Outside was a sign that said Sex Sells with an arrow pointing inside. The auction, she realized, mentally face-palming. How had she spaced that off? Usually she kept better track of Michael’s activities. She’d probably been distracted with stupid Billy and his stupid song.

Once inside, she was surrounded by the gruff voices of businessmen and the high-pitched cackles of their cheating wives. It almost reminded her of some of her father’s parties. She tried her hardest to blend in, but it was hard to miss the fact that she was significantly underdressed. She thought about going home and changing into something a little fancier, but by the time she did that and drove back, the auction would be over.

All concerns about her appearance vanished when she saw Michael talking to one of his patrons. He was wearing a casual black suit, no tie. He was smiling, looked like he was having a pretty good time. She wanted to run up to him and kiss him.

It was amazing how she felt so much better when he was around. He was the only thing she could see. Suddenly, it was like, Billy who?

She had to turn and face the other direction when Liz walked by. What the hell? How had her sister-in-law scored an invite? It must’ve been a pity thing, just like her current living arrangement. Liz didn’t see her, but that had been a close call. She couldn’t stay there much longer, no matter how badly she wanted to. Still, it didn’t hurt to leave a signature.

She made her way over to the bidding tables and pretended to be interested in surveying the paintings, when in reality, all she was interested in was seeing which one Michael had painted. Kyle, too, walked right past her and didn’t even notice.

Two paintings in particular caught her eye. She knew they were his before even glimpsing the labels. She knew Michael. She knew his style. Romantic, passionate, but not explicit.

She read the titles of the paintings. The Conception of Miley and The Conception of Macy. She rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses and lamented the fact that she wasn’t the woman in those paintings. She should have been. She almost was.

A piece of paper lay in front of both paintings with three columns. The first was labeled Name, the second, Phone Number, and the third one said, Enter Your Bid Here. Both paintings had about a dozen bids already, far more than any other paintings or pornos up for sale. Isabel picked up the pen, bent down, and wrote something in on the bid column of Miley’s painting, but it wasn’t an amount of money. It was a declaration: I love you, Michael. And that was priceless.

It took everything she had to leave, but eventually she did. Maria’s eyes had been scanning the room, and she didn’t want to get caught by the competition.









TBC . . .

-April

Leila, I had to get my rant about Lost out there. I only got 2 hours of sleep last night because I was so pissed off about it. Jate and Suliet? WTF? I'm done with that fucking show for all time now. What a waste of six years. I'm just going to stick to writing my novel from now on instead of getting invested in a show like Lost. At least I've got control over the novel.

Anyway . . .


Leila:

Billy is Isabel's marionette and so far she could control him and bend him as she wished but Billy is getting out of hand.

Just like all the things in Isabel's life, Isabel has control over the Billy situation for a little while, and then it gets out of hand.

Though Kyle is an idiot for calling his wife a bitch and not appreciate her in his speech. You always appreciate the wife. Always!

Definitely. It's just kind of an unspoken rule to mankind.

Novy:

My issue with Kyle is not that he's working so much. I think it is great he's putting all that work into making the gallery successful. Especially for a gallery that's very important. It's just his attitude towards Tess has changed. He has changed.

And it's really been a struggle to write a changed version of Kyle, too, because I loved the old Kyle. He's still the same guy, he's just older and has more priorities than he used to. And unfortunately he's not doing a very good job of balancing those priorities right now.

That's girl right? It has has to be the girl in the video.

Yep, that's the girl. More on her later.

BB:

Yeah, because you were sooo supportive and encouraging Tess. Grr. She's really pissing me off. Her selfish attitude makes me forgive Kyle for his lesser faults.

I feel so bad that they're both so frustrating right now. I just need them to be having all this conflict in order to move the story in the direction I intend.

And so we finally meet the mystery girl. And Max stole her money. Classy move. I can't wait to find out who she is and how she and Max are going to meet again.

It'll be a big storyline for Max.

Ellie: I hope you’re feeling better!

And while some may think me wrong for saying this ... I think that the fact that Kyle didn't thank Tess was fine.

You know, I can joke about how men are always supposed to thank the wife, but I think you’re right in all reality. Tess definitely wasn’t his “other half” when it came to the auction. I think it just alarmed her that he didn’t thank her because, in the past, he would have, no matter how much she helped or hindered the process.

dreambeliever:

Kyle tried nice, he tried blunt and Tess is still not getting the picture.

Kyle’s going to need to be even more blunt if he wants to get through to Tess. Or maybe she’ll ease up and he’ll change his mind about the baby thing and end up being as enthusiastic about it as she is. Time will tell.

Neve:

The question is, does Isabel really love Michael or is she just stalking him because he's safe? He's unattainable so she doesn't have to worry about the emotional quagmire of opening up and making herself vulnerable to him. Alex is a loser alcoholic so she doesn't have to worry about him. Along comes Billy and at first it's all about sex, so he's safe too but then he goes and falls in love with her and Isabel feels something for him too and she can't handle that.

Wow, I couldn’t have analyzed the situation any better myself. I think that Isabel really does love Michael, but part of that love is probably that feeling of “safeness” and “security” and not having to worry about handling something real and emotional, like you said.

Max is an asshole. He's also a mulitdimensional character with a very interesting arc and I can't wait to see where it goes with this little girl.

I’ve always wanted to write a multidimensional asshole.

(Just think by the time you post the next part, lost will be over forever!)

Thank God. I wanted to throw my TV out the fucking window last night. I’m done with Lost forever now. I’m never going to watch an episode again or look up anything on the Internet about it. That’s how much I hated the finale.

Rodney:

Well........you've finally started the BAD Kyle/Tess fighting haven't you

Oh, this is bad, but it could get worse.

To be honest I think there is a small part of fear in Kyle when it comes to Tess.I don't think he fears her as a person but fears losing her.You see Kyle was the no girl luck having virgin who just so happen to stumble into getting the woman of his dreams....but deep inside himself is a scared part that thinks he's still a loser and still not good enough to keep her so that if he doesen't go along with her ways or keep her happy she'll leave him for someone better.

Ah, that’s interesting. I hadn’t thought of it like that, but it makes sense. Kyle is still slightly bewildered by the fact that she’s even with him, so that makes him hesitant to do anything that might push her away.

You know the bad part in this is that in 521 it was easy to pick a side in their fight.....what with Tess stringing Kyle along.But here it's not so easy....both are being big idiots.

One of my goals when I started plotting out the storylines for this fic was to amp up the complexities and make it harder to “choose sides,” so I’m glad it’s harder to choose sides in this Tess and Kyle fight.


I'll probably update again on Thursday.








Part 36








“Miss, are you listening?”

Maria snapped back to reality when the little old lady beside her, Betty, asked that question. “Huh?” she said. “Yeah, yeah.” She wasn’t sure why, but she’d felt . . . weird for a moment. Or actually, she hadn’t felt weird, but the room did, like it was being invaded by someone who didn’t belong. It was fine now. “You’re not into that one?” she asked, referencing the First Kiss painting she loved so much.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Me neither,” she lied. “Let’s move on down the line.” She ushered Betty to a different table where some of Michael’s paintings were displayed. She had to admit, it was a little bit strange to be looking at such sexual paintings with a woman old enough to be a great-grandma.

“Oh, this is pretty,” Betty remarked. “What’s it called?”

“The Conception of Miley. And here’s its companion piece called The Conception of Macy.”

“Oh, I like these,” Betty said excitedly. “Look at them. Doesn’t that look passionate?”

Maria almost laughed. “It sure does.”

“I wonder who those people are.”

“I have no idea.” She blushed and looked away.

“I think I’ll bid,” she announced, picking up the pen.

“Alright, you go, girl. I hope you win.” Maria didn’t intend to hover over her while she wrote down her bid, but part of her was curious to see how much money she had to spend. What she saw made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The current highest bid wasn’t a bid at all, but rather a profession of love towards Michael. And she hadn’t been the one to write it.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who had. No wonder she’d had that weird feeling a moment ago.

“Hey, I’m gonna find you later and we’ll chat, okay?” she said, patting Betty on the shoulder.

“Okay, honey.” Betty was still in the process of writing down her bid.

“Kay.” Maria looked around for Michael. He was talking to Mr. Buckley—or was his name Mr. Buckworthy?—his old manager from the campus art museum. She had worked there for a short time, too. He was a nice guy. He was probably going to buy something.

She wiped her now sweaty palms against the sides of her dress. God, she should’ve been more alert. It would’ve been great to physically catch the bitch violating her restraining order. She supposed she could call the cops now, but that would disrupt the entire auction.

When Kyle walked past her, she grabbed his arm. “Isabel was here,” she blurted.

“Oh, that sucks,” was his response.

“Don’t we have any kind of security?”

“Uh, not really.”

She shivered. There was something so unsettling about knowing that Isabel had been there, right there, and none of them had even noticed it.

Kyle waved at an overly-tanned peroxide blonde with boobs the size of watermelons who was standing behind her husband while he wrote down a bid.

“Please tell me you’re not flirting with that . . . trophy wife,” Maria said.

“No, I’m selling,” he claimed.

“Selling what, yourself?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Look, go find Tess,” she told him, semi-surprised that he hadn’t already. “She’s probably in the bathroom. Apologize to her.”

“For what?”

“For not including her in your little ‘I’d like to thank the Academy’ speech.”

He looked confused.

“Go on.” She gave him an encouraging shove in the direction of the bathroom and away from the trophy wife. His own wife needed his attention.

Maria sighed. The night had gotten just a little bit twisted. The girl who was supposed to be out there enjoying herself wasn’t, and the girl who wasn’t supposed to be within five-hundred feet had been.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was a long line of women standing outside the bathroom door. The one at the front noticed Kyle and said, “Um, hi, there’s some kind of problem with this door.”

“I’ll take care of it.” He slipped in front of her and knocked on the door. “Tess?” he said. “Can I come in?”

No response.

“Please?”

The doorknob slowly turned.

“This should just take a minute,” he told the women, disappearing inside. Tess was sitting on the toilet, not going to the bathroom, but crying. Two wads of tissues were in her hands.

“What . . . what’s wrong?” he asked, kneeling down in front of her. “Hey, what’s goin’ on? Maria said you’d be in here.”

“That’s ‘cause Maria knows me better than you do,” she said through tears.

“Well, yeah. I am working at a slight gender disadvantage here.”

“Quit making excuses,” she said. “I’m tired of you making excuses. You’ve been blaming everything on this auction, and now it’s here and you’re still being a jerk.”

He didn’t know what to say. As far as he was concerned, he was the same old Kyle, just with a career and a ring on his finger. “I’m not trying to be.”

She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the toilet paper and sniffled. “You know, Michael looks at Maria, and it’s like there’s nothing else in the room for him. And that’s, like, how you used to look at me. But ever since I told you I wanted a baby . . .” She trailed off.

“Okay, honestly, that freaked me out,” he confessed. “And I’m still adjusting. That’s all this is, this friction between you and me . . . it’s just an adjustment period. Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Yeah, I know,” she whimpered. “It’s just . . . I was, uh . . . I was sitting here trying to remember the vows you wrote for me on our wedding day, and . . . I can’t remember.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re old. You’re gettin’ senile,” he joked, garnering a glare from him. He chuckled and admitted, “No, it’s because . . . I haven’t given you much of a reason to remember.” Even though the auction wasn’t an excuse for his behavior, it had in fact been stressful to plan, and he probably had taken some of that stress out on her. “But for the record, what I said was, ‘Tess Harding, I knew you were the one for me the moment I first saw you. And for a long time, I hoped and prayed I was the one for you, too. And when I saw the way you lit up around me, the way I could make you laugh, I knew I was. And that made me proud. And nervous. And excited. And terrified.’ And then I forgot what came next and started talking about The Hills and Britney Spears.”

Tess laughed.

“And then I danced a little, and everyone laughed. And then I tried to kiss you, but you told me I couldn’t yet. So I wrapped it all up by saying, ‘I love you, Tess, and not to--”

“--get all Whitney Houston on you,” she joined in, “but I will always love you.”

He nodded. She remembered, too.

She threw her tissues into the trash can and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer to her and hugging him. “I love you, Kyle,” she whispered.

“I love you, too.” He didn’t want to give her any reasons to doubt that. “We’re gonna be fine,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “I promise.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Liz was onto her second drink when she glanced towards the front door and saw Max come in. He was dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt underneath his jacket. He looked like a regular college guy, something he’d never been.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” she asked, happy to see him. The auction was only fun for the people who had something to gain out of it. She was just there because Tess and Kyle had invited her.

“Just thought I’d stop by and see you,” he replied, reaching into his pocket. He took out two five dollar bills and asked, “Do they have anything for ten bucks?”

“Um . . .” She reached behind her onto the table and held up the one and only gay male porn movie up for sale. It was called I’ll Have Sausage for Breakfast and no one had bid on it.

“No thanks,” Max said swiftly.

She laughed and set the movie back down. “The bidding’s gone pretty high on most of these things already. Out of our price range. God, that feels weird to say.” They’d never actually had a price range until now.

“All these people are looking at me,” Max mumbled, lowering his head.

“They probably all stayed in your hotels,” she said, straightening out his jacket. He was totally underdressed for this. “Some of them are kinda . . . wealthy.”

“Lucky bastards.”

“Never mind them. How’d the McDonald’s interview go?”

“Shh,” he hissed.

“Oh, sorry. How’d the . . . surgeon interview go?” That was prestigious.

He shook his head. “Not good. I screwed up the last question.”

“Which was . . .?”

“How much do you expect to get paid.”

“Oh.” She nodded, understanding. “Oh.” That would do it. “So you’re not gonna be flipping burgers—shit, I mean cutting up craniums—anytime soon?” Surgeon, surgeon . . .

“Doesn’t seem likely.”

She sighed. “So . . . what now?”

“Now . . . I take you back to Tess and Kyle’s place and we put that pool of theirs to good use.” He grinned and took her hand in his.

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“Yeah. Our lives suck right now. We need to have a little fun.”

That much was true. A little fun could go a long way. “Okay, pool boy,” she said. “Let’s go get wet.”

He put his arm around her, and they left the auction. Probably for the best. They didn’t belong there anymore. In fact, they had never belonged in Michael, Maria, Tess, and Kyle’s world.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael was glad to be able to meet up with his old boss again that night. Some people quit a job and never wanted to see the person they’d worked for again, but he and Mr. Buckley had always gotten along really well. He’d even come to the hospital after Miley had been born.

“I’m so glad your gallery’s done so well, Michael,” he said. “You should be really proud of yourself. To start a successful business at such a young age . . . that’s quite the accomplishment.”

“Watch out,” Michael warned, “my ego’s gettin’ huge.”

“Of course I miss having you at the museum, though. Your replacements haven’t been quite up to par.”

“It was a tough decision to leave,” he admitted. Mr. Buckley had offered him an assistant management position at the museum about the same time Kyle had suggested starting up a gallery. One of the biggest risks he had taken had been to turn down the for-sure deal for the risky option. Luckily it had worked out. “Hey, thanks for coming by tonight, though. I really appreciate it.”

Mr. Buckley shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for pornography.”

Michael laughed. His mom had been a bit appalled when he’d told her they were selling porn.

“So how’s Maria been?” Mr. Buckley asked. “I see you haven’t made an honest woman out of her yet.”

“No, but thank you for the hint. We’re gonna get married after she graduates.”

“And things have been good for you two?”

“Yeah, mostly. Her, uh . . . her mom has breast cancer, though,” he revealed. “That’s been a little hard to deal with.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, but we’re hopeful she’ll be okay, so . . .” He trailed off. Amy was being extremely tight-lipped about her condition. All he could hope was that she was doing okay when they went to visit her. “The girls are good, though. Miley just turned three.”

Mr. Buckley shook his head in astonishment. “It seems like just the other day she was born.”

“I know. Oh, and Macy’s starting to talk. And crawl and all that.”

“What was her first word?”

“Mama. Maria was pretty happy about that.”

“I’ll bet.” Mr. Buckley moved out of the way when someone came to write down a bid for one of the pornos, and as he did so, he looked down at one of the bidding sheets with wide eyes. “Wow, take a look at this.” He picked it up and handed it to Michael, pointing out what was currently the highest bid. “I doubt anyone will go higher than that.”

Michael almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Someone had bid eighteen-thousand dollars on Brandon’s First Kiss painting. He knew who it was before he even looked at the name written down in the far left column. Augustus Monet.

“Michael?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. I, uh . . .” He set the bidding sheet back down and looked around for Augustus. He was a huge guy, so he wasn’t hard to spot. When the crowd parted, Michael saw something that didn’t sit right him. Augustus was talking to Maria.

“I’ll be right back.” Michael slipped away from his former boss and made his way through the crowd. “Maria.”

She turned around, and Augustus immediately walked away. “Hey, how many paintings have you sold?” she asked eagerly. “Because I’ll tell you what, even though we’re only halfway done, I’m on a roll. I’m even getting the porn freaks to bid on artwork. How talented am I?”

“Very talented.” He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her close to him as her conversation partner walked out the door. “What were you talking to Augustus about?”

“Wait . . .” She glanced over at the door and then back up at him. “Augustus? The money guy? That’s who I was talking to? I didn’t know that.”

“What’d he say?”

She shrugged. “Nothing really. He said he thought this auction was a good idea and he told me I looked nice.”

Michael tensed. Bidding a lot of money on a painting was one thing. Making remarks about his girl’s appearance . . . that really made his spider sense tingle.

“What?” she said. “I do look nice, don’t I?”

“You look great. Stay here, okay?” He headed towards the front door, hoping he could catch Augustus getting into his car. This was probably nothing, but he needed to get some things straightened out. Spending so much money on artwork that technically wasn’t worth that much money made no sense. Maybe he and Brandon were in cahoots on something.

Michael stepped outside. It was dark, and the wind had picked up. There weren’t many people out and about, and there weren’t many cars driving past. Augustus was nowhere in sight.

You’re overreacting, he tried to tell himself, turning to go back inside. But as he did, he saw two silhouettes moving against the side of the video store, heading down the narrow alley in between the two buildings. It looked suspicious, so he followed them.

When he turned and headed down the alley, the only sounds he heard were the sounds of trash rustling on the ground. There wasn’t anyone there. Those silhouettes were probably just shadows from the moon. He was being paranoid.

Just as he turned around, someone’s fist collided with his stomach. He buckled over in pain, and before he could even try to fight back, another guy pushed him back against the side of the building. Whoever it was pinned his right forearm against Michael’s neck, effectively preventing him from making a sound. He had no idea who they were. They were both wearing black ski masks.

“Listen, kid, you got no business bein’ out here, you hear me? No business,” the first guy said in a thick Jersey accent. “Now when I let you go, you’re gonna run back to your little auction, piss your panties, and forget about all this. You’re gonna sell your paintings to whoever wants to buy ‘em, and you’re not gonna ask questions, are you?”

Michael didn’t say anything.

“Are you?” The guy dug his forearm deeper into Michael’s neck.

“No,” he choked out as fear coursed through him. The second guy was holding a lead pipe.

“And you’re not gonna tell the cops about this,” the first guy went on, “because you got a pretty little wife and kiddies to think about.”

Michael’s eyes grew wide in horror.

“We wouldn’t want anything to happen to them.” The thug finally released him, and he and his partner in crime backed down the alley towards the street, keeping their eyes on him the whole way.

Once they were gone, Michael bent over, holding his stomach from where he’d been hit. His breath was coming in ragged pants now, and his throat hurt. But none of that worried him as much as the fact that his family had just been threatened. Those guys had to be working for Augustus, and Augustus had just been talking to Maria . . .

He ran to the backdoor and used his key to let himself in. He slammed it shut, locked it, and ran back out into the gallery. Everything still looked perfectly normal. Kyle was busy mingling, and Tess was mingling right along with him. Mr. Buckley was still there, and Maria was talking to him.

“Maria.” He rushed towards her, grabbing her by the arm frantically. “Maria, are you okay?”

She stared up at him confusedly. “Yeah, are you? You look . . .” She pulled back his collar and asked, “What happened to your neck?”

He wrapped his hand around what was undoubtedly becoming a quick ring of bruises. “Let’s go home,” he said.

“What? The auction isn’t even over.”

“I know. I don’t care. I wanna go get the girls.”

“I’m sure Marty’s got them under control.”

“I wanna go get ‘em.” He didn’t mean to snap at her, but this felt urgent. He wanted to have all three of them safe at home where he could watch over them. Being at the gallery suddenly felt too public.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He wasn’t even sure. What had he done to deserve getting jumped in the alley? What had his family done to deserve being threatened? “I just . . . I don’t feel very well,” he lied.

“Okay. We’ll go,” she said. “Just let me tell Kyle.”

“Okay.” He stayed behind with Mr. Buckley while she went to tear Kyle away from his customers.

“Wow, that high bid really worked a number on you,” Mr. Buckley remarked.

“What?” Eighteen-thousand dollars. He didn’t even want that money. “Oh . . . yeah. Yeah.” He saw both Maria and Kyle gesturing to each other wildly, and he excused himself from his former boss. “It was really nice to . . . see you again,” he said, making his way towards his friends.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” Kyle asked outright. “Maria says you’re leaving.”

Michael looked around at all the people who had showed up for the auction, all the people who had no idea what had just gone down outside. “I think we should shut this down,” he said.

“What? Why?”

“We’ve already made enough money.”

“No such thing.” Kyle picked up one of the DVDs on sale and said, “Look, this one doesn’t have any bids. Sausage for . . . oh, never mind.” He quickly set it back down and said, “Where’s Marty when you need him?” He laughed, but Michael was too nervous to even pretend he was okay.

Kyle wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “What’s up with you, man?”

“Look, I need to get my kids,” he stated decisively. “Finish the auction if you want, but maybe Tess should come home with me.”

“What’re you talking about?”

He didn’t even know what he should or should not say. He wanted to go to the police, and he probably would have had those thugs not threatened Maria, Miley, and Macy. “There were some kinda shady people out there tonight,” he said. It was an absolute understatement, but it would do for now. He’d tell Kyle more about it when he could, but this wasn’t the right place for that conversation.

“I’ll look after Tess,” Kyle said. “Just go home, feel better.”

“Okay.” No one had threatened Tess, so he figured she’d be okay. “Maria.” He grabbed her hand and led her towards the door.

“Can I wear your jacket?” she asked.

He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, cautiously leading her outside. He looked in all directions. There were some people coming down the sidewalk, but they looked friendly. There were two little kids with them. He hurried Maria towards their car and opened the door for her.

“Where’s your pepper spray?” he asked.

“What?”

“Don’t you have pepper spray?”

“Well, yeah, but I didn’t bring it with me tonight.”

“You should always have it with you,” he said, “just in case.”

She held up her small handbag and said, “You try fitting everything in here.”

“Carry a bigger purse,” he suggested, practically pushing her into the passenger’s seat. “Come on.” He just wanted to get out of there. He shut the door and hurried around to the other side of the car. He climbed inside and locked the doors.

“I think you did drugs,” Maria said.

“I didn’t do drugs.”

“That’s not why I’m pissed. You did ‘em without me.”

He brought the car to life and took off. As he drove to Marty’s house, he kept glancing in his rear-view mirror to see if anyone was following them. There was a dark-colored minivan that was behind them all the way from the gallery to the street Marty lived on.

“Is that car following us?” he asked, ready to pull an evasive maneuver if he had to.

“No.”

He watched in the rear-view mirror as the car turned left a few blocks before Marty’s house, and he caught sight of a dog sticking his head out the window. He breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, those lowlifes from the alley didn’t strike him as dog people.

“Gosh, you’re paranoid,” Maria remarked as they pulled into Marty’s driveway. They picked up both girls. Michael felt so much better when they were with him, but even then, he was still nervous as hell. They both fell asleep in the backseat on the short drive home.

“So I think we should go to Vegas tomorrow,” Michael announced as he turned onto Alvarado Street.

“Really?” She sounded surprised.

“Yeah. We said we wanted to go after the auction.” He didn’t know what to do about what had happened. The simplest, best solution was to get out of town for awhile.

“I didn’t think that meant right after. But that works for me. I’ll pack tonight.”

“Good.” He wanted to leave first thing in the morning.

When they got home, he was just as cautious, if not more so, as he’d been when leaving the gallery. He kept one hand clenched in a fist at his side. He wasn’t the violent type, but he’d do whatever was necessary to protect his family.

“Why can’t I stay with Uncle Marty?” Miley asked, half-asleep as he lifted her out of her car seat.

“Because,” he replied simply.

“Because why?”

“Just because.”

“Daddy’s not feeling well, honey,” Maria said as she lifted Macy’s carrier out of the back. “Leave him alone.”

Miley rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her up to the front door. He carefully unlocked the door and stepped inside, immediately turning on the overhead living room light. Nothing looked out of place. It didn’t look like anyone had been there. “Everything looks good around here, right?” he said.

“Same old house.” Maria yawned and started upstairs. “I’m gonna go pack.”

“Wait a minute.” He hurried up the stairs, positioning himself in front of her. “Let me go first.” He set Miley down on her feet in the upstairs hallway and proceeded to check out all the bedrooms to make sure no one was lurking. He looked in the closets and under the bed just like when he checked for ‘monsters,’ and he checked all the windows to make sure they were still shut. It all looked fine.

“Did you get, like, mugged or something?” Maria asked when he came back out into the hallway.

“Everything’s fine,” he lied. He didn’t want to scare her. “You’d better get packed.”

While Maria was packing up a suitcase for both herself, him, and the girls, he went back downstairs and tested out the locks on both the front of the back door, just to make sure they were working properly. He changed the batteries in the burglar alarm, made sure all the blinds were closed, and reset the timer lights so that they’d stay on all night. When he went back upstairs, he took his childhood baseball bat out of the dusty corners of the closet and placed it underneath the bed, just in case he needed to use it.

When he felt that he’d done everything he could to make the house safe, he crawled into bed with Miley. She’d fallen asleep in his and Maria’s bed. When he lay down beside her, she stirred and opened her eyes.

“You tired?” he asked.

“No.”

He winced as he lifted Macy out of her carrier and placed her on the other side of him, lying on her right side, facing away. His stomach ached from that sucker punch. “You can sleep in here tonight,” he told Miley, trying to forget about the parts of his body that hurt. He could deal with it.

“Really?” She sounded sleepy but excited. “Cool.”

“You and your sister both. And tomorrow we’re hittin’ the road, gettin’ away from here for awhile.” He put his other arm around his oldest daughter and let her snuggle against him. “I love you, you know that?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He rubbed her tiny arm, thinking how small she was compared to him. They all were.

Maria came back into the bedroom a few minutes later dressed in grey sweatpants and a white tank top. “Packing’s done. I’m ready for sex,” she announced. When she saw Miley and Macy lying asleep in each of his arms, she reconsidered. “Or not.”

“They’re gonna sleep with us tonight,” he told her.

“When did we decide this?”

“Just now. I decided.” No way was he going to let them sleep alone tonight.

“I don’t know,” Maria said, “we don’t want Miley to start making a habit out of this.”

“She won’t,” he promised. “It’s just for one night.”

“Okay. Is there room for me?”

He pulled Miley closer to his left side, freeing up a little mattress space. “There is now.”

She smiled, pulled back the covers, and got in. “This is kinda nice,” she admitted, curling up on her side. “Cozy.” She reached back to shut off the bedside lamp, but she stopped as she was about to do so and said, “Oh, by the way, Isabel was there tonight.”

“What?” As if his night hadn’t been crazy enough.

“Yeah, she wrote I love you, Michael on one of the bidding sheets. Creepy, huh?”

Michael couldn’t believe it. So not only had Augustus and his thugs shown up, but his stalker ex-girlfriend had, too? He couldn’t deal with her right now. Too much other stuff was going on.

“But other than that, I’d say the auction went well, wouldn’t you?”

He swallowed hard, aggravating his sore throat. It’d been a disaster. He wished in that moment that he would’ve taken that management job with Mr. Buckley.

“I love you, Maria,” he said, suddenly feeling as though he didn’t say it enough.

She smiled at him. “I love you, too.” She reached back and turned the lamp off, and the room went dark. Michael lay there with his eyes open, letting them adjust to the darkness. He doubted he would be able to fall asleep, and to be honest, he didn’t really want to. He wanted them to sleep while he stayed awake. He had to take care of them.








TBC . . .

-April

I'm going to have to crank this update out quickly today because I've got to get home and watch my soap operas! I really wish I had a better reason. I'm just falling behind. There's this new character on General Hospital and I have no idea who she is. That's just unacceptable. My grandma would be so disappointed in me for not keeping up on "the stories."

So a big fat THANK YOU for the feedback goes to:

Leila - (Dirtypanties? Seriously? The nicknames you give me get weirder and weirder all the time!)
Ellie
BB
Rodney
Novy - (I should have clarified, when I say I'm writing a novel, I mean this fic. I call it the novel because it's so long.)
dreambeliever
Christina - (You nailed it right on the head that, much like in 521, Kyle and Tess still lack communication.)
Neve

And please don't hate me for this next part.








Part 37








Kyle couldn’t believe this eyes as he sorted through the sales receipts that night. There was so much money. Just . . . so much of it. It was like Christmas morning, his birthday, and his college graduation all rolled into one. Never had he imagined he could make such a profit.

“Kyle, can we go home soon?” Tess asked. She was sitting at his desk, slumped forward, her arms pillowing her head. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, just a minute.” He was adding up the numbers in his head. So far, for the paintings alone, they’d reached over thirty-thousand. Of course, some of that would go to the artists themselves, but . . . whatever. Both of Michael’s paintings had ended up selling at about the five-thousand dollar mark. He was going to be so happy. The video store had done well, too. This auction was definitely going to be annual.

“I hope Michael’s feeling better,” Tess said. “What do you think was wrong with him?”

“I don’t know.” Kyle pulled out the receipt for Brandon’s First Kiss painting.

Tess yawned. “I’m really sleepy.”

He looked at the name and the amount, and a huge grin swept across his face. “Awesome.” It was on nights like these that he really loved his job.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Though he couldn’t possibly fall asleep that night, Michael lay still while Maria, Miley, and Macy slept. Miley kept kicking off the covers, and Maria was snoring a little. Macy was drooling.

His eyes snapped open when he heard a rustling sound downstairs. It sounded like someone was trying to come inside the house. He didn’t hesitate. He sat up, disentangled his kids from his arms, and got to his feet. Grabbing the baseball bat from under the bed, he felt his heart start to pound with trepidation, but he didn’t let that stop him. He stopped only once right at the bedroom door to cast a glance back at his family. They were all still sleeping peacefully. He wasn’t about to let anything change that.

He slipped out of the bedroom, shut the door firmly behind him, and hurried downstairs with the bat poised to strike. When he set foot in the living room, he realized the sounds were coming from the backdoor, and when he made his way into the darkened kitchen, he noticed the doorknob turning, trying to open. He stood behind the door, gripping the bat tightly, and then he heard a familiar voice grunt, “Fuck.”

He wrinkled his forehead in confusion. That almost sounded like . . . Max. He unlocked the door and threw it open, still holding the baseball bat high in the air.

Max jumped backward, throwing his arms up in defense. “Whoa, hey, I know you don’t like me, but do we have to resort to bludgeoning?”

“What’re you doing here?” Michael demanded, still not lowering his weapon of choice. “Are you working for him now?”

“Working for who?” Max visibly relaxed, looking him up and down. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those schizophrenic freaks who thinks the FBI’s following him.”

Michael pretended to swing the bat.

Max jumped back again. “Okay, okay, Liz and I had sex in Tess and Kyle’s pool. We locked ourselves out. I was hoping to find a spare key over here. Do you have one?”

Michael slowly lowered the bat, his paranoia dying down. Max looked absolutely pathetic. No way was he working for Augustus. He walked over to his refrigerator, reached up on top, and located the spare key for Tess and Kyle’s house. He handed it to Max in hopes that he would leave.

“Thanks,” Max said, taking a few steps in the other direction. He stopped, though, turned back around, and asked, “What’s with the bat?” When Michael didn’t answer, he laughed and said, “No, to be honest, I don’t even care.”

“You got a minute?” Now that Max was over there, it struck Michael that he might actually be . . . helpful.

“Sure,” Max replied, pocketing the spare key.

“Come inside.” The invite tasted like bile on his tongue, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He just hoped Maria didn’t wake up. She’d throw a fit if she saw the two of them down there.

Max crossed the threshold slowly, nervously. “You have a nice house,” he remarked, looking around.

“Try not to infect it,” Michael shot back. He set the baseball bat down on the kitchen table and didn’t bother to turn the kitchen light on. He had no desire to look into the face of a monster. “Here’s the thing,” he started in. “I hate you. What you did to Maria . . . she may be over it, but I’m not. Every day I wake up and feel like killing you. But right now I need your help.”

“With what,” Max inquired, “asking for a favor?”

“I’m only telling you this because I can’t go to the cops. And as much as I hate to admit it, you know stuff about business and business-people that I can’t even begin to know.”

Max grinned and nodded smugly. “That’s true. Can I have something to eat?”

“No.”

“Please?” he literally begged. “I’m wasting away to nothing.”

“There’s a happy thought.”

“I haven’t eaten in two days.”

“Would you shut up and listen to me?” he bellowed, reminding himself to keep his voice down. “I don’t care about your problems.”

“And yet you expect me to care about yours.”

He didn’t expect Max to care about anything. “Don’t you ever wanna be redeemed?” Redemption was probably impossible in Max’s case, but it still didn’t hurt to play that card.

“Alright, shoot.”

He sighed, not even sure where to start. This wasn’t something he dealt with on a daily basis. “Something happened tonight,” he began. “Kyle and I--”

“Ugh, gay,” Max interjected.

“What? No, it’s . . .” Michael rolled his eyes. “Kyle and I had a silent auction at our gallery.”

“Oh, I know. I was there.”

Michael almost lost his mind. “You were there, too?” Him, Isabel, and Augustus? How had he been so oblivious? “I’m over it,” he decided. “Anyway, we had this silent auction. We’ve been planning it for awhile and--”

“How long is this gonna take?” Max broke in again. “‘Cause Liz is probably freezing her ass off in the pool.”

“The short story is, there’s this guy who’s been coming into the gallery and buying paintings for a lot of money,” Michael told him, making sure to emphasize, “A lot of money.”

“How much?”

He shrugged. “Five, six-thousand dollars.”

Max grunted. “That’s pocket change.” He must have suddenly remembered that he was poor now, because he lowered his voice and mumbled, “Or at least it used to be.”

“He just buys one artist’s paintings, and he says he’s just paying what he wants to; but tonight things came to a head,” Michael went on. “He bid eighteen-thousand dollars on a painting that’s not even worth eighteen-hundred. And I saw him talking to Maria. So I went outside to confront him and I got jumped in the alley.”

“By the same guy?”

“No, two other guys. I think they work for him.”

“His own thugs, huh? I used to have those.” Max smiled wistfully. “Those were good times.”

“They told me to sell my paintings to whoever wanted them, and then they threatened to hurt Maria and my kids if I went to the police.” If they’d just threatened him, it wouldn’t have been so bad.

“Wow. They sure know your kryptonite,” Max remarked. “I get that.”

“What do you think is going on?” Michael asked impatiently.

“In my not-so-humble opinion?” Max lifted the baseball bat off the table, then set it back down again. “It sounds like a con.”

“Okay, I don’t speak criminal. Can you elaborate?” He had pretty much figured there was a con of some kind going on, but he needed to know what kind of con it was.

“My guess is he’s buying the paintings from you so that he can sell them to other people for two times what he paid.”

“But why’s he paying me so much?”

“Did he write fake checks?”

Michael shook his head. The checks were good.

“Hmm. Then he’s probably paying so much so that he can flash his receipts at gullible people and convince them they’re actually buying a valuable piece of art,” Max explained. “He probably tricks them into thinking they can buy it for twice as much as he paid and sell it off again for twice as much as they paid. That’s how a lot of cons work, on the promise of continuing it. He figures he can make the owners blissfully happy by dropping so much money on their business and the artist elated by buying all his work.” He shrugged. “It’s not a bad con, but it’s too flamboyant to work for long.”

“So . . .” Michael’s tired brain had to work double-time to process everything. “Does that mean my gallery’s an accessory?”

“Yep.”

He groaned and raked on hand through his hair. “Dammit, Kyle,” he muttered. If only he’d never accepted that first check . . . But then again, he supposed he was to blame as well. He hadn’t demanded they give Augustus his money back.

“As long as you don’t sell anything else to him, you can claim being an unknowing accessory,” Max said. “You’ll be alright.”

“So should I go to the cops?” Now that he had an inclination as to what Augustus was up to, maybe they could do something to stop him.

“I really don’t know. You think the guy’s serious? You think he’d hurt your family?”

“I don’t know,” Michael admitted. “I barely know the guy. Kyle’s the one who sold to him.”

“So talk to Kyle, get his input before you make a move,” Max suggested.

“Okay. Yeah, that’s a . . . a good idea.” He rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the ache.

“But for what it’s worth, I’ve had stuff like this happen to me,” Max said, “and I didn’t get the police involved.”

“Well, I’m not you,” Michael snapped.

“No, you’re most certainly not.”

He had to admit, he was still reluctant to tell anyone else. Maybe once they got to Vegas, he’d be able to think more clearly. Maybe the distance would do him good.

“What’s this guy’s name?” Max asked.

“Uh . . . Augustus Monet.”

“Augustus?” Max stood up straighter.

“Yeah, you know him?”

“Maybe. Two years ago, I was conned by an Augustus Rockefeller. Fat guy, right?”

Michael nodded.

“Yeah, he convinced me to invest with him, ended up stealing a hundred grand. Not my smartest moment, I’ll confess. Different business, different con. Same guy.”

“How’d you handle it?”

“Well, we wanted to avoid the bad press, so we settled it out of court.”

“How?”

Max just stared at him for a moment, not speaking. Michael was about to pummel the information out of him when he suggested, “You might wanna get Isabel in on this.”

He frowned. Isabel? What could she do? She was about the last person Michael wanted to ask for help. But if it meant putting this whole fiasco behind him . . .

He got her number from Max.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was the middle of the night when Isabel’s cell phone shrieked and woke her up. She rolled over onto her back, groaning and searching for her phone in the dark. She picked it up off her nightstand and pressed it against her ear. “What?”

It took a moment, but finally, the most wonderful voice in the world said, “Isabel?”

She sat up abruptly, suddenly wide awake. It was him. She knew so instantly.

“It’s me,” he said.

As if she’d ever forget his voice. “Hi,” she said, pinching her leg to make sure this wasn’t a dream. No, it was real. He was really calling her. She was really hearing his voice, and he didn’t sound mad at her for once. God, if anything, he sounded as though he wanted to talk to her.

“I need your help,” he said quietly after a moment of awkward silence. “Can you come over?”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Half of her fantasies began this way. A happy smile found its way to her face. This was perfect.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Isabel got to the house at 522 Alvarado Street, Michael was already waiting outside for her. He was seated on his porch with his head in his hands, looking entirely too stressed out for someone as glorious as him. He stood up when she got out of the car and met her in the front yard.

“I’m not gonna get arrested, am I?” she joked. “I mean, since I’m technically violating my restraining order and all.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with that earlier,” he pointed out, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He was still wearing the suit that he had been earlier.

“Alright, so I was at the auction,” she admitted, “but I didn’t cause any trouble. That’s gotta count for something.” She grinned and took a few steps towards him. “Did you like my bid?”

He took a few steps back. “No.”

She frowned.

“That’s not why I called you.”

“Booty call?” she guessed, more than willing to oblige. “You said you needed my help, so . . .”

“Would you get serious?” he snapped.

“About what?”

He sighed. “Max says you can help me with something.”

“Oh, I’ll help you with anything.”

He gave her a look.

“Seriously,” she added on.

“Does the name Augustus ring a bell?”

She stiffened, overwhelmed by an immediate feeling of disgust. “What do you know about Augustus?”

“I know he’s a con man. Kyle’s been selling him paintings for a whole lot of money. Max thinks it’s a con. So do I. I got jumped outside my own gallery.”

“My god, are you okay?” She reached out for him, but he backed away yet again.

“I’m fine,” he said. “but I’m scared outta my mind ‘cause the guys who jumped me threatened to hurt Maria and my kids if I go to the police.”

“So you came to me.” She liked that he knew she was so capable.

“Max said you’d know how to handle it, to make it go away.”

“I do. I handled it for him a few years ago.” She shivered at the memory. “It won’t involve jail time, but I guarantee he’ll leave you alone. He’s a con man of his word, if there is such a thing.”

“That’s all I want.”

His concern for his family was touching. She only wished she was the object of such emotion.

“I wanna take Maria and my kids out of town for a few days,” he said. “Will it be . . . resolved by then?”

“It’ll be resolved tomorrow,” she promised. Tomorrow was going to be a horrible day, but it would be worth it.

“What’re you gonna do?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Whatever it takes.”

“Don’t put yourself in danger.”

For a moment, she felt that concern from him, and she smiled flirtatiously. “That’s sweet. You’re worried about me.”

He shifted uncomfortably but didn’t deny it.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “I know what I’m doing. I’ve done it before.” Two years had gone by since then, but not much had changed.

****

Isabel strolled into her brother’s office shortly after he’d called her. He was standing over his minibar, doing his best impression of Alex by getting drunk.

“Well, well,” she said, announcing her presence, “it’s about time you ask me for help.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before he had the chance. “Wait a minute, I need to savor this moment.” She closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and then opened them again. “Okay, it’s savored. What’s the sitch?”

Max picked up a manila-colored file folder and handed it to her. “This guy.”

She opened it up and took a look at the contents inside. There was a picture of a fat guy named Augustus. “No way is he a real Rockefeller,” she commented immediately. She knew all the true Rockefellers by name and picture.

“Con man,” Max said. “I lost a hundred-thousand to him. I’m gonna settle it out of court.”

“No, sue his ass,” she suggested. It looked like he had plenty of proof that a crime had been committed.

“I can’t,” Max said. “I have a new hotel opening in Albuquerque, and contrary to popular belief, not all publicity is good publicity. I need you to fix this for me. Read a little more.”

She looked over more of the information in his file. His prior employment stuck out to her. “He worked with dad in the nineties,” she noticed.

“Yep. Dad fired him and stole his money. Augustus filed a lawsuit, but it was overturned on a technicality. He’s been harboring his resentment for fifteen years.”

“So he conned you as payback.” Isabel shut the file folder. “Good for him. If you can’t hit the godfather, hit his equally as obnoxious next generation.” Max deserved to lose a hundred grand.

Max took a drink and said, “I spoke with him. He’s willing to give back half the money and get out of town if you meet with him.”

“Me?”

He looked away from her. “To talk.”

She saw that flash of guilt in his eyes. He was trying to conceal it, but she picked up on it right away. “Oh,” she said. “I see.” Did he really think she was stupid enough to fall for that? “And by ‘talk’ you mean fuck.” Several people walking by outside stopped and looked in at them. Max hurriedly shut the door.

“Unbelievable,” she grunted. “You think you can just whore me out to your enemies whenever you need to make a problem go away?” She wasn’t an object. She refused to be used like that. “Screw you, brother dearest.” She turned to leave, but he said something that stopped her.

“He threatened Garret.”

She froze at the mere mention of her little boy.

“He said he’d hurt him if we didn’t comply. That’s why I can’t bring this to court. He won’t let me.”

Her bottom lip trembled. Garret was just a kid. He was completely innocent. The world hadn’t had time to corrupt him yet.

“You have to, Isabel,” he said. “A little sex makes this all go away. You’ll never have to deal with him again.”

She tried to lie to herself and pretend that it wouldn’t hurt, that it wouldn’t make her feel dirty. It was just sex. She’d had sex before.

“Where does he wanna meet?” she asked, swallowing hard. There were only two people in the world she would do something like this for, and Garret was one of them.

****

Isabel wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cold. She wished Michael would hold her.

“Just tell me what you’re gonna do,” he said.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing illegal,” she assured him. She reached down and took both of his hands in hers. He stared at her confusedly, but either because he was too tired, too confused, or simply enjoyed her touch, he didn’t yank them away. “I would do anything for you,” she told him. If anyone else had asked for such a favor when Garret was not involved, she wouldn’t have granted it. But no one else was Michael Guerin.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Maria woke up in the middle of the night, Michael wasn’t there. Miley and Macy were both still sleeping soundly.

She got out of the bed and went into the bathroom. It was dark. She headed out into the hallway, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “Michael?” she called quietly, heading downstairs. “Are you up?” She saw that the living room lights were still on and figured he might be watching some TV, but when she got down there, the living room was empty. The kitchen was dark, too, so he wasn’t getting anything to eat.

“Michael?” She shut off the lights in the living room, confused as to why they were still on when they were supposed to be on a timer. She thought she heard voices outside, so she made her way over to the front window and peered out through the blinds. Even though it was nighttime, she could see that Michael was standing out there talking to someone. That was strange enough, but not half as strange as the fact that the person he was talking to was clearly Isabel. She was holding his hands in hers, saying something. A moment later, she smiled at him, turned, and walked back through the front yard towards her car. Michael turned and headed for the house.

Maria staggered backwards from the window and ran back upstairs. She slipped back into the bedroom just as Michael shut the front door, crawled back into bed, and pretended to be asleep when he came back in. But she didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. She couldn’t. One unsettling question kept racing through her head:

Why had Michael been outside with Isabel?







TBC . . .

-April

Sorry I didn't update yesterday, but it was Memorial Day, you know. I spent my entire day lounging around. And being patriotic, of course. I'll update again on Thursday.

Ellie:

I can't even imagine how or believe that Michael would go to either of them. Why oh why didn't he just talk to Kyle first before throwing in with either of those two?! I'm so ... disappointed in Michael right now. I get that he's scared and desperate to protect his family, but this? *shakeshead*

He's not thinking clearly, is he? I was actually very excited to post that last part, because it's the first time in this fic that we've really seen Michael screw up.

What is Maria going to say when she finds out? You know she will. I just hope she doesn't get a crazy idea in her head that anything is going on between Isabel and Michael.

She's going to be pretty pissed about what she saw, even though she doesn't understand what she saw. Up until now, Michael and Maria haven't really had much tension, but you'll see a glimpse of it in this part.

Leila:

I never saw Isabel as woman who uses sex to get what she wants or to gain an advantage. It's her last alternative if everythng else doesn't work out. So I think (or mostly I hope), then Isabel did deal with Augustus in another way.

Unfortunately, she didn’t deal with Augustus in another way. You know, this is one of the ways in which I sort of feel sorry for Isabel. She always ends up using sex to help herself out (and once in awhile to help out someone else), even though she doesn't want to.

Novy:

I wonder if Isabel had told Michael exactly what she was going to do if he would have said no.

I think Michael kind of suspects what she’s going to do right now, but he’s hoping he’s wrong. Had she straight-out told him she was planning on sleeping with the guy, he probably would have said she shouldn’t do it. Although I don’t think that would stop her.

I don't watch that soap but I'm the exact same way with Y & R. I've been watching it for a good majority of my life. lol My grandma use to watch it so that's how I got into it. We use to discuss what's happening.

What is it with grandmothers and Y&R? My grandma used to watch that soap, too, and she got me hooked on it when I was a toddler. I haven’t watched it so much lately, but my mom watches it. She says they’re doing too many cloning storylines.

BB:

Oh my God. I'm actually feeling sorry for Isabel. It's weird, I don't like it, make it stop.

You’re funny. If you’re feeling sorry for Isabel now, I guarantee you’ll feel sorry for her in an upcoming part of this fic.

Did Augustus actually threaten Garret, or did Max throw that in there just to get Isabel to do what he wanted.

I don’t know. I kind of wondered that myself as I was writing it, but it’s never addressed, so that’s up to you to decide.

I wonder does Michael realise what Isabel is going to do? Is that why he let Isabel hold his hand?

I think he kind of suspects something, but he doesn’t want to have to think about it right now.

Natasha: Hey there! Welcome to the 522 thread!

BTW, April, Brook Lynn is kinda old and kinda new. She is Ned and Lois's daughter...and I am obviously addicted to General Hospital. I swear it's for Jason, though.

Ooh, I love me some Jason almost as much as Spinelli! You’ll have to remind me who Ned and Lois are. I only started watching GH a few years ago.

Maria should be a little more proactive and be ready to throw down for her family. If she could do it with Psychobeast Isabitch, she could find a way to take this Augustus ass down.

Are you a 522-Isabel fan? Because if you are, you join a very small but fun club. I’m pretty sure Leila is the only member.

I am still waiting for some of the answers from the teasers such as :

-Why is Tess's hair black?
-Why is Maria running out of the house in nothing but lingerie and a man's shirt
-Does anyone die?

Don’t wait for any answers on the second one. I mostly just stuck that clip in there because I ran out of clips to use. I’m such a slacker sometimes. The first one is something you’ll have to wait until over page 800 for, and the third one . . . well, you never know.

lilah:

April, you asked us not to hate you for this..and we don't but if I could convey a very loud frustrated scream over the computer I think it would look like this
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.....there we go

Prepare yourself to do more AAAAAAAHHHHHHs as the fic goes on.

dreambeliever:

Michael needs to talk to Maria ASAP..or else MAria waill just let the questions eat at her.

He definitely needs to talk to her, but since he’d like to handle this situation without ever alarming her about it . . . he probably won’t unless he feels like he has to.

Guel:

maybe i got it wrong, but if am right, then max is really a bastard. Selling out his sister like that for money. I would say im proud of isabel for talking about the rapes if this is the case.

I didn’t think about it like this, but now that you bring it up, this does put an interesting new spin on Isabel selling Max out to the magazine. Suddenly her being the one to accuse him of being a rapist seems a whole lot more justified.

kyle is really annoying me right now. really annoying. what happened to the shy guy who just was in love with tess and wanted her? i dont get it. he's such a jerk right now.

This sort of identity crisis is something that Kyle is going to be grappling with for awhile.

Rodney:

You know as excited as Kyle was over all that money I'm shocked he didn't want to have sex with Tess there in the office

We all know you would have jumped at that opportunity!

You know I didn't think Max could fall in lower in my books.....I mean he was already a scum sucking rapist....but now to know he pimped out his own sister .......yeah he's a real sweetheart...not!

The We-Hate-Max club is alive and kicking as ever! We’ll see if he ever takes a step up in your books. He might or he might not. Either way, it’s okay.

Neve:

One step forward for Max and then, a hundred steps back.

That’s how it always seems to go with Max. In this part, you might see a glimpse of humanity in him and a flicker of sympathy for Isabel.


A certain scene in this part is a bit disturbing, just to warn you.







Part 38








All night, visions of dollar signs danced in Kyle’s head. He was so wired that sleep felt like a waste of time. He wanted to get back to the gallery and sell more. With the way things were going, he and Tess would have their entire mortgage paid off within five years. They’d be able to buy a new car, maybe one of those fancy foreign cars that exuded sex appeal and brought overwhelming happiness.

Before the sun had even risen, he sat up and started running through the profits in his head. He took out a calculator when the math got too complicated and sat there on the side of his bed, trying to figure out just how profitable last night had been.

Tess stirred, wrapped her arms around his midsection, and murmured, “Come back to bed. It’s early.”

“Do you realize we made more money last night than we have in the past six months?” he told her, staring down at the beautiful five-figure amount on the calculator screen.

“That’s great,” she said. “I’m really glad. Let’s celebrate.”

“You know, who would’ve thought I could start up a business and run it well?”

“I did.”

“Me of all people.” He’d been so shy back in elementary school that his teachers thought he was mute. Now he was a salesman, and a damn good one at that.

“Kyle.” Tess said his name adamantly and tightened her arms around his waist. “Let’s celebrate.”

He set the calculator down, grinning. “Alright then.” He lay back down on top of her, kissing her. No nude magazines necessary this time. His enthusiasm about the auction was going to transfer right on over to his sex life. He and Tess were going to celebrate so long and hard in that bed, they’d be lucky if either of them ever walked again.

“No interruptions,” she whispered against his mouth, tangling her hands in his hair. Right after she said that, the doorbell rang. “Oh, no,” she groaned. “I jinxed it.”

“Who else is up at 6:00 in the morning?”

“Maybe it’s a girl scout.”

The doorbell rang again, and Kyle resigned himself to getting up. Whoever it was didn’t seem to be going away. “I’ll get rid of ‘em.” He tossed back the covers, pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and treaded downstairs. When he opened the door, it was none other than his best friend and business partner on the other side. “Michael.”

“What took you so long?” He barged right into the living room.

“Uh, I was about to have sex with my wife.” Kyle slowly shut the door, surveying Big Daddy himself. His hair was standing out in all directions, and his eyes were bloodshot. “You don’t look like you’re feelin’ better,” he remarked. “Hey, here’s something that’ll perk you right up: We made a ton of money last night. Augustus--”

“Is a con man,” Michael cut in.

Kyle frowned. “No, I was gonna say ‘is Jesus,’ but . . .”

“Open your eyes. He’s a con man. He’s conning us.”

“What’re you talking about?” The word didn’t even register with Kyle. It wasn’t part of his daily lexicon.

“Last night at the auction, I got beat up outside. These two guys threatened to hurt Maria, Miley, and Macy if I went to the police.”

“Oh my god.” Suddenly the faint bruising around his neck made more sense. “Are you alright?”

“No, I’m freaked out.” Michael raked one hand through his hair, looking the part. “I haven’t slept all night. I’m taking my family out of town ‘cause I don’t want them to be here right now.”

“But how do you know Augustus was behind the attack? You don’t know that. It could’ve been anyone.”

“Who the hell else would it be?” Michael roared.

“Shh,” Kyle hissed. He didn’t want Tess to overhear any of this. She had enough gripes about his job without adding criminality into the mix.

“I talked to Max,” Michael said, quieter now. “He got conned by the same guy two years ago. We’re not great salesmen, okay? We’re fools.”

All the elation Kyle had felt upon waking up vanished from his body. Part of him had always known there was something weird about Augustus. He’d just never wanted to examine it more closely. “Did they threaten Tess?” he asked.

Michael shook his head. “No. But you guys are welcome to come with us for a few days.”

“Who else have you told?”

“Just Max and Isabel.”

“Max and Isabel?” he echoed, semi-shocked.

“She’s gonna help.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. She said she knew how to handle it. She handled it for Max.” Michael sat down on the couch, lamenting the situation. “God, I hate being wrapped up in this right now. This is why I didn’t wanna get into business. I should’ve listened to my instincts.”

“Wait, so what’s gonna happen to our business now?” Kyle sat down beside him, fearing the worst. His job had become such a huge part of him. Without it, he’d just be the dork from high school and college again.

“Max says it’ll be fine,” Michael replied. “Just don’t make any sales like that ever again to anyone.”

“I won’t,” Kyle promised. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. Here I thought I was some corporate genius.” He felt like an idiot, like a gullible idiot, which was probably why Augustus had honed in on him and not Michael. “This is all my fault.”

“No, it’s not. We’re partners. We’re in it together,” Michael said.

“It’s still my fault, though.” He should have sensed that something was off right away. “You really got beat up?”

Michael nodded.

“That sucks, if I recall.” He remembered how scared he’d been when Max had hired people to clobber him in his own apartment, and they hadn’t even threatened Tess. He could only imagine how scared Michael was.

“Actually, I just got slugged in the stomach, but it still hurt,” Michael said. “I only got terrified when they brought up my family.”

“Where’re you guys going?”

“Vegas, to see her mom. You wanna come with?”

Kyle contemplated it for a moment, but he didn’t like the thought of leaving the gallery unattended. “No, I’d better stay here, keep an eye on things.”

“And Tess?”

He glanced back up the stairs, knowing she was probably impatient for him to rejoin her. “I don’t want her to worry,” he said. He felt better having her around him than having her anywhere else.

“Yeah, I’m hoping this whole thing gets resolved without Maria ever having to know about it,” Michael said. “I wish I knew what Isabel’s gonna do.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Kyle told him, feeling oddly confident with the fate of his business in her hands. “She may be an evil bitch, but . . . she’s plenty capable.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel stared nervously at her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing a tight strapless white dress that was barely long enough to cover her butt. Augustus would love that she looked like a hooker.

She put on white high heels to make her even taller than she naturally was. August was short and fat. At least this way she could feel that she had some kind of power over him by actually towering over him. She put on a long, tan coat as well. It had fake fur on the collar and went down a good two feet below the dress. She tied it around the waist, grabbed her purse, and headed downstairs. She just wanted to get this over with.

“Where are you going, Mommy?”

She whirled around at the sound of her son’s voice. “Oh, Garret.” She held one hand to her chest. “You scared me.” She made her way into the kitchen where he was sitting at the table with an empty cereal bowl in front of him. “I’m just gonna go somewhere today, but I’ll be back tonight to tuck you in.” She took a box of Lucky Charms out of the cabinet and poured it into the bowl, followed by lots of milk. Garret liked soupy cereal. “I love you, baby,” she said, kissing the top of his head.

“Love you, too, Mommy.”

She wondered how much he would love her if he knew what she was about to go do. Hopefully by the time he was older and knew about sex, their lives would be better. Hopefully she would be back with Michael and sex would be a beautiful thing again.

When she walked out onto her front porch, she nearly collided with a disheveled Max. “What do you want?” she asked impatiently, shutting the door before Garret could see him.

His eyes roamed her up and down. “I knew you’d help him,” he said. “How could you resist?”

“You have no idea how dehumanizing this is for me, do you?”

He stared at her, and he sounded serious when he said, “I imagine it’s horrible.”

She grunted. “You imagine.” But he would never know. He wasn’t the one whose body got used; he was the one who used bodies.

“Tell me you’re not naïve enough to think this’ll change things between you and Michael.”

She smirked. “It will. Just watch.”

“You fuck on his behalf and suddenly he loves you again? That’s not gonna happen.”

She wasn’t naïve. Life had taught her not to be. But at the same time, it didn’t hurt to dream. “At least he won’t hate me anymore,” she said, angry that she had to settle for scraps. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“Even if it means protecting his bitch girlfriend and brat kids?”

“Even then.” She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a nice person like that.”

“I told Michael you could help him. That must make me a nice person, too.”

Isabel rolled her eyes. “Just get out of my way so I can go be violated.” She shoved past him and headed down the steps of her porch to her car parked in the dirt driveway.

“He’s just a guy,” Max called after her. “You don’t have to do this.”

But he was so wrong. Michael Guerin was no more just a guy than she was just a girl. He was everything that gave her hope, her whole reason for waking up and putting one foot in front of the other even when things got tough. He alone was the reason why she kept on living, kept on fighting, hoping, and knowing her luck would turn around. She had a destiny, and it was him. For that reason . . .

“Yes, I do.” She got in her car and drove off.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria wasn’t sure why Michael had wanted to get such an early start that morning. It wasn’t going to take that long to get to Vegas. They had to drive through Arizona, and there was a lot of desert on the way, so it was pretty much just them and the open road for awhile. But it was almost as if he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He had them all in the car at around 6:30 that morning, and he put the pedal to the medal once they hit the highway.

She hadn’t mentioned what she’d seen the other night between him and Isabel, partly because she wasn’t sure what the heck she’d seen and partly because she was hoping he’d take the initiative to explain it to her himself. But he never did. He kept his eyes focused on the road in front of him, and she kept hers looking out the window as the scenery drove by. Neither of them said much. Miley was doing most of the talking, Macy was crying periodically, and the radio was sending Nada Surf rhythms throughout the car.

“You want me to change the station?” Michael asked. It had to have been the first words he’d said to her in ten miles.

“No, it’s fine.” She curled her legs up on the seat and closed her eyes, wishing she could take a nap on the way there. But every time she tried, she saw him and Isabel standing out in the front yard, and she felt confused.

“Miley, get back in your car seat,” Michael said as he looked up into the rearview mirror. “You know you’re not supposed to be roaming around back there.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” she apologized, climbing back up where she was supposed to be. She fiddled around with the seatbelt for a moment, then gave a helpless look and said, “Mama?”

Maria turned and reached into the backseat, strapping her daughter back in. “Stop unhooking that,” she ordered, looking out the window again.

“Are you okay?” Michael asked her quietly.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He’d been so weird last night, and he’d been so eager to get home. She hoped he hadn’t been eager to meet up with Isabel.

“I’m just tired,” he said, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Neither did I.” She wanted to say more, but she wasn’t about to do that with her kids in the car. She and Michael could have a conversation when they got to Vegas. Until then, it was best not to say too much.

“Are we there yet?” Miley asked.

“No,” they answered in unison.

A few seconds rolled by, and then she asked the question again. “Are we there now?”

“No,” Michael and Maria answered again. Maria craned her neck back and said, “Miley . . .” in a warning tone. No way was she going to start that up.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she mumbled quietly.

Maria looked at Michael, and he sighed. They were out in the middle of nowhere. She’d have to hold it for a little bit.

They stopped at a gas station on the side of the road about ten minutes later. Miley barely made it to the bathroom on time, and Macy needed a diaper change by then, too. Michael refueled the car while Maria took care of the kids. She had to hold her breath the entire time, because there was quite the foul odor in the bathroom. When she got out, she announced, “That is the most disgusting bathroom I’ve ever been in in my entire life.” The toilet hadn’t flushed right, and there had been squares of toilet paper and cockroaches on the floor.

“Can I have candy?” Miley asked, peering in the gas station window.

“No, we’re getting the hell out of here,” Maria decided. She wasn’t one to curse in front of her kids, but she was operating on a very precarious filter right then.

Michael grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“You tell me.” She opened the back door to the car and placed Macy back in her backward-facing car seat. “Let’s go, Miley,” she said impatiently. The girl didn’t need any more candy. She operated on a constant sugar high.

Michael just stared at her as though he had no idea what he’d done wrong. She tried to avoid all eye contact and hoped they’d get to Vegas soon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Don’t look nervous. Don’t look nervous, Isabel mentally coached herself as she stood outside the door to Augustus’s house. Or at least it had been his house two years ago. She was hoping he’d still be at the same place. She couldn’t imagine anyone else would want to stay there. It was a bigger hole in the wall than her own house was, although since he was still conning people, that probably meant he had plans to purchase a bigger house any day now.

He waddled to the door with a doughnut in his mouth. It fell out and onto the floor when he saw her. “Well, well, look what we have here. Isabel Evans.” He leered at her. “Long time no screw.”

“Not long enough,” she retorted. “Can I come in?”

He stepped aside and motioned grandly towards the house’s interior. “Be my guest.”

She slipped past him and wrinkled her nose when she inhaled the scent of pizza boxes without pizza slices in them. There were dozens of cardboard boxes piled high in the living room and kitchen, packed full of junk.

“You remember Ricky and Johnny, don’t you?” Augustus pointed out his two sons at the top of the stairs.

“How could I forget?” They’d been a little younger last time, but not too young to want to fuck her. She figured they were probably the two guys who had confronted Michael in that alley. She hated them almost more than Augustus, because they had put bruises on his gorgeous body.

“And how is your son?” Augustus asked as though he cared.

She wasn’t about to tell him one iota of information about Garret, so she cut straight to the chase. “I heard you’ve been making some purchases at a local art gallery. That’s funny, because this place is the same old dump it was two years ago.” There sure as hell weren’t any paintings on the walls.

“Some things never change.” Augustus grinned at her. He certainly hadn’t changed.

“I’m here to work something out between you and the owners,” she informed him, “just like we did last time for my brother.”

“Are you offering to give of yourself?”

She wasn’t giving so much as they were taking. “You kept your end of the deal last time,” she said. “I trust you’ll do the same this time. If I sleep with you . . .”

“And them.” He motioned towards his sons as they crept downstairs.

“If I sleep with all of you, you leave the owners of that business and their families alone. If you ever so much as make eye contact with any of them ever again, I’ll sue you for rape. And you know I’ll win.”

“I have no doubt,” Augustus said. Even though he was a horrible pig, at least he respected her power.

“So do we have a deal?” She extended her hand for a shake.

He crossed his arms over his chest, scratching his chin contemplatively. “That depends. What do you look like these days?”

She opened up her coat and showed off the mini-dress.

“Nice.” He nodded approvingly. “Alright, deal. I’ve just got one question: Why?”

She took off her coat and dropped it onto the floor. “Why what?”

“Why get involved? I didn’t con your brother this time; I didn’t threaten your son.”

Ricky laughed dumbly. “Yeah, we just scared some dumbass outside his own store.”

“He’s not a dumbass,” Isabel snapped. “He’s the love of my life.”

“And you’re not his,” Augustus remarked. “That must sting.”

She wasn’t there to get psychoanalyzed. She was there to get this done with. “Just take off your pants.”

“Now, now, don’t be so hasty,” Augustus chided. “We want this to last.” He circled around her like a vulture—a very fat vulture—circling its prey. “What is it about this guy that makes you love him so much?”

“Well, he’s everything you’re not, for starters.”

He chuckled. “Good to know you haven’t lost your spunk.” He stopped in front of her and touched her hair with the back of his hand. “You must be extremely devoted to him. That’s admirable.”

She wanted to slap him.

“Now take off your clothes.”

She backed away from him, closed her eyes, and pushed her dress down. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, so when it pooled at her feet, she kicked it away, and then she stood before them wearing only high heels.

“Turn around,” Augustus instructed.

She spun slowly in a circle, her hands on her hips.

“Magnificent,” he declared, unzipping his pants. His sons already had their dicks out.

“Bend over the table and we’ll get started here.”

Isabel made her way over to the kitchen table and plastered herself down on top of it, spreading her legs apart. This was so sick, being gangbanged by a man and his sons. She had a feeling they’d keep her there all day, but she also knew they’d keep their word.

Augustus came up behind her first, slapped her ass, and then grabbed her hips. “He’s gonna think you’re a slut,” he said before plunging into her with no restraint.

She winced and gripped the edges of the table, trying to have an out-of-body experience. In her mind, she was back in Michael’s apartment with him, back when things had been good, and he was telling her he loved her. And she loved him, too.

“Michael . . .” she whimpered. It would all be over soon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Amy and Ed had a nice house. It wasn’t quite as big as Max’s, but it was twice as big as Michael and Maria’s, looked like something transplanted out of Orange County. They lived about twenty minutes away from everything. Like most middle class Las Vegas residents, they had a large pool in the back to combat the heat and a double-car garage to accommodate their vehicles. They were able to afford such a place because Ed had begun working at a box company four years ago, and they had promoted him. And then they had promoted him again, and then again and again until he reached the point where he was making one-hundred thousand dollars a year.

“We’re here,” Michael announced as he drove into the driveway.

Miley immediately woke up and clapped her hands in excitement. She unhooked her seatbelt, and Maria flew off the handle.

“Miley, how many times do I have to tell you? Stay in your car seat until your father parks the car. God, you never listen.”

Miley recoiled in her seat. “Sorry.”

Michael stared at her confusedly as she got out of the car. PMS? He could think of no other explanation. He got out of the car and first lifted Macy’s carrier/car seat out of the back. Then he unhooked Miley and helped her out.

“Why’s Mama mad?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” She’d gotten mad at him a lot when she’d been pregnant and . . .

Oh. There was a talk they needed to have later.

“Hey, why don’t you go on in and say hi to your grandma,” he suggested.

“Okay. Hi, grandma!” Miley screamed, running for the front door.

Michael picked up Macy’s carrier and walked around to the other side of the car to join Maria. “Why’re you pissed at me?” he asked.

She ignored him and headed for the house.

He followed after her. “Maria!”

“Because, Michael, I know you’re keeping something from me,” she said without slowing down. “You think I don’t know, but I do, because last night--” She ended abruptly when she literally bumped into Miley in the doorway. Miley was just standing there, staring, and when Michael looked into the living room and saw what she was staring at, he froze, too.

Amy was lying on the couch, but she barely even looked like Amy anymore. She was asleep, and she had no make-up on. And she was completely bald. A wastebasket full of Kleenex was poised below her, as well as a puke bucket.

“Oh,” Maria choked out. “Mommy?”

Ed came into the living room a moment later carrying a TV tray with food on it. When he saw them standing in the doorway, he cursed, “Jesus,” and dropped the entire tray on the floor.

“What’s going on, Ed?” Amy asked, opening her eyes. It only took her a minute to notice the four of them, and when she did, she looked . . . ashamed. She sat up and immediately touched her head. “Maria.”

Maria didn’t say anything, and Michael couldn’t think of anything to say, either. They all just looked at each other helplessly, silently, until Miley broke the silence by waving and saying, “Hi, Grandma.”

Amy smiled at her sadly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria swallowed hard as she sat on the couch with her mom late that afternoon. For the past half an hour, Amy had been trying to eat a small bowl of Jell-o, but she kept getting sick and nearly vomiting. Maria just sat there, watching her. She’d put a maroon scarf on her head now. She still had both her breasts.

“You could’ve told me it got . . . worse,” she said.

Amy set her bowl back down on the tray when there were only a few bites left. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I worried when you wouldn’t tell me anything. I figured it’d gotten worse, but I didn’t expect you to be . . .” She trailed off.

“Bald?” Amy filled in. “It’s a new look for me, isn’t it?”

Maria’s bottom lip trembled. One of her earliest memories was combing her mom’s hair for her when she’d been a little girl.

“I wish I could’ve been there for Miley’s birthday,” Amy said regretfully, “but I just felt so horrible, and I was afraid she’d be scared of me. Grandmas aren’t supposed to look like this.”

“I think you look beautiful,” Maria told her, and she wasn’t just saying it to be nice. The strength she saw in her mother was something she’d never seen in anyone, and it made the essence of Amy shine through the sickness.

“My doctors are giving me the most radical treatments they can. I don’t wanna die.” She sniffled back tears. “I wanna stay here. So all we can do is hope something works.”

“I hope all the time.” Maria wasn’t sure how she was managing to keep her own tears in. She’d cry later, she was sure, when her mom couldn’t see her. “I’m sorry, I should’ve called first to warn you we were coming. I shouldn’t have thought it’d just be okay to show up.”

“It is okay,” Amy assured her. “I shouldn’t have kept my prognosis a secret. You deserve to know what’s going on.”

Maria absentmindedly twirled her own hair around her fingers, and when she realized she was doing it, she stopped, almost feeling as though the simple gesture was rubbing it in her mother’s face. “Do you miss your hair?” she asked.

“Every day,” Amy admitted readily. “But it’s just hair. It doesn’t matter. And besides, don’t I look gangster now? Don’t I look tough?”

Maria smiled. “You are tough.” She’d never be half that tough. She could pop out the kids until the cows came home, and then she could pop out the cows. But cancer was completely different. “I love you, Mom,” she said, wishing she’d told her more often.

Amy just smiled tearfully and nodded. “I love you, too.”

Maria leaned over and hugged her. She couldn’t die. She had too much to leave behind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Max led Liz up the dirt path to their new . . . home, if it could really be called that. He held his hands over her eyes, trying not to note the hopeful smile on her face. When he removed them and she took sight of the . . . home in front of them, her smile fell.

“What do you think?” he asked.

She was silent for a moment, a moment in which the only sounds were the neighbor’s crying triplets. Finally, she managed to remark, “It’s a trailer.”

“Yep.” A home on wheels. The door was dangling on its hinges, and one of the windows was boarded up. There were weeds outside, and the trailer park itself smelled like a dump. But it was cheap.

“We live here now?” she asked, cringing.

“Unfortunately.” He swallowed hard, wondering what his father would think if he could see him now. “Do you think it’s bad luck or bad karma that we ended up here?” he asked.

She gave him an expressionless look and admitted, “It’s probably karma.”

He nodded and led the way into the house. The trailer. Whatever it was to them. He had to duck to walk in the door, and when she got inside, she wrapped her arms around herself as though she were afraid she was going to catch something. “Wow, this is . . . small,” she commented.

“Yeah.” It was all they could afford, though. The kitchen and the living room were practically the same thing. They had a blue couch made out of recycled plastic bottles, a ten-inch black and white TV from the eighties, and a Hulu girl lamp. The kitchen itself consisted of various appliances that didn’t work and a counter permanently stained with blood. Farther back, they had one tiny closet, a tinier bathroom, and a bedroom. Max had sold their king-sized bed and bought a double bed instead. The headboard was crooked. The entire trailer had plain brown walls and shag green carpet.

“Oh, and look, it comes with its own pubes,” Liz remarked, pointing out some hair on the arm of the couch. “And mice.” A mouse skittered across Max’s shoe and out the front door. “And white trash neighbors.” The husband next door strolled by without a shirt, saw Liz inside, and groped himself before continuing on. “You know, when you said you had a place for us to live, this wasn’t exactly what I pictured.”

“We won’t be here forever,” he reminded her. “Just for a couple months.”

“You need to get a job.”

“I know.” Even though he was still unemployed, it wasn’t for lack of trying. He’d interviewed his ass off. He just hadn’t heard back from anyone, and he didn’t expect to. Even though he was good at being rich and powerful, he had no marketable skills. “But this is better than nothing, right?” After spending several nights in his car, this felt like a palace to him. A very ugly palace, but a palace nonetheless.

“It’s a mobile home,” Liz said slowly. “It’s a home that’s mobile. I’m just trying to wrap my mind around it.”

He squeezed into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a beer. That was all they had in the refrigerator. Good old empty calories.

“God, I really sound like a spoiled princess, don’t I?” she said.

“A little bit,” he admitted. “That’s okay. I don’t blame you. I’m spoiled, too.”

“Wow, that makes you sound so manly.”

“You wanna see manly? I’ll kill those mice,” he vowed. “That’s manly.”

She managed to laugh a little as she headed back outside to get some of her things from the car. “Yeah, you’d better do that before they make babies.”

Max bristled. He was tired of being on edge, keeping the other bad news from her. He had to tell her.

“Liz.”

Outside the trailer, she spun around.

Just say it, he told himself. Maybe it would be freeing. “I can’t have kids.”

She just stared at him for a moment, then said, “Well, yeah, I can’t have kids right now, either. Everything’s so . . .” She circled her hands around wildly, searching for the right adjective. “Unsettled.”

“No, I literally can’t have kids,” he repeated, “as in ever.”

She frowned confusedly. “You mean, like, you don’t want to?”

“No, I can’t,” he said as emphatically as he could. “It’s impossible, physically.”

The sad look on her face said everything she couldn’t. He felt like he’d just stabbed a sword through her heart.

“My doctors say it’s a fertility problem, probably due to some past infections,” he explained.

“Infections?” she echoed.

“Like . . .” He thought back to all the prostitutes he’d slept with over the years. “Chlamydia, gonorrhea. That kind of thing. Plus I have this chromosome abnormality. It screws everything up.”

“Oh my god,” she said, sounding utterly shocked. “So you just . . . you for sure can’t have kids?”

“For sure.” He’d been trying some treatments, but his doctors said he literally had a one in a million chance of ever becoming a father. He hadn’t even realized how much he wanted to until they’d told him he couldn’t.

She came back inside and shut the rickety door. “How long have you known about this?” she asked, touching his shoulder.

He shook her hand away. “A year.”

“A year? And you’re just now telling me?”

“It’s not the easiest thing to say.” He looked around at their new home, and he literally felt sick to his stomach having to dump this on her, too. “And for someone like me who’s already failed at so much . . . to fail at this, too . . .” He trailed off and shook his head, feeling like killing himself.

“This doesn’t make you any less of a man, Max,” she assured him.

“Yes, it does,” he insisted. “You’d feel like less of a woman if you couldn’t have kids.”

“Maybe we wouldn’t have even wanted kids,” she said, obviously trying her hardest to make him feel better. “Maybe we would’ve been horrible parents.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, reflecting on his own upbringing. “Maybe not.” On the one hand, growing up with his father had given him several awful examples of human behavior to strive for. On the other, he knew exactly what not to do. “Now we won’t even get the chance, because I ruin everything for you, for us, just by being who I am.”

“Max . . . I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not disappointed. But nowadays, we have a lot of other options.”

“Like what, adoption?” He grunted and shook his head. “No way. I can’t stand other people’s kids.”

“You love Garret,” she pointed out.

“He’s part of my own gene pool.”

“But that’s not why you love him. Family’s about more than biology, Max.”

“But it is about biology,” he argued. “At least somewhat. I mean, why else would I have put up with my dad for twenty-one years? Why else would I bother with Isabel?” He brought his beer to his lips and drank.

“Okay, I sense that you’re gonna be very stubborn about this for quite awhile,” she said, “so I’ll just stop talking about it. But for what it’s worth . . . Max . . .” She touched her hand to the side of his face, smiling at him supportively. “I’m glad you finally told me, and it’s not the end of the world.” She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly before heading back outside to the car.

He stood in their new trailer and sighed. Not the end of the world. Yeah, she said that now, because she was only twenty-four. But a few years down the road, she’d realize what she was missing out on, and then she’d hate him.








TBC . . .

-April

My apologies for not updating yesterday like I said I would. I got sick on Wednesday night with a 24-hour bug, so I was pretty much on bedrest yesterday. I feel better now, though.

So the deal is that my summer class is now done (woohoo!), so we're going to have to play it by ear a little bit on the updating schedule from now on. I plan to be able to update again either Monday during the day or Tuesday at night.


Ellie:

I'm just ... so ... sick ... and disgusted by everything that's happening here.

The tension between Michael and Maria over his hiding the truth from her; Amy's continuing cancer battle and how it's ravaging her; Augustus and his sons gang-banging Isabel so that they'll leave the gallery/owners/and their families alone; Max once again keeping a secret from Liz - he cannot father a child (Karma ... IT'S A BITCH!); and most especially ... dumb-ass clueless Kyle.

This fic has some parts where everything is pretty much bad for everybody. I think you'll feel a little bit better after this next part, though. For now, at least.

Farrah:

After all this - raping Maria, losing his fortune, losing their house, alinating her entire family...and now finding out she can't ever have biological children with her husband...and yet Liz has taken everything in stride and still appears loving and supportive.

What the hell does Max do that makes her cheat/turn away from him???? I can't fathom what could be worse than his stock pile of offenses.

I really can't say anything without spoiling something. All I'll say is that Max and Liz have a very twisted, messed up relationship, so Liz's reasons for distancing herself from him, if she in fact does that, will probably be kind of messed up.

Rodney:

Ohhhhhh boy it's going to get ugly here now that Isabel is going to think Michael 'owes' her one for what she did! And when she comes calling for that favor.........well it's either going to get bad if Michael pays it back or she's going to get even more crazy insane when he doesen't.

Hmm, although it's possible that Isabel might not feel like Michael owes her. In her own weird and obsessed way, she loves the guy, and love can be selfless.

Novy:

So I feel sorry for Isabel. I feel very confused and awkward about saying that and feeling it. The whole situation is just horribly sad. Only you April can paint one picture and just keep on adding new colours. It's moments like that, that you can see her as a human being and as someone that has a heart and feelings. And even a victim of circumstances.

I really appreciate that you were able to see her that way. 521/522-Isabel is by far the most villainous character I've ever written, but I think I enjoy writing her so much because there are some very distinct elements of humanity within her. In a way, I felt sorry for her, too. That was a tough scene for me to write.

I don't feel sorry for them. I love how you have them experiencing this cosmic retribution for all their past wrongs.

You know, after I finished 521, I felt like Max and Liz had too much of a happy ending considering all the bad things they'd done, so that's why I've dragged them through the gutter in the sequel. Cosmic retribution, like you said.

You should watch now too April and be a Nick and Phyllis fan. They are the reason I keep watching now a days. lol

My mom seems to like Nick and Phyllis together. I'm a JT fan myself, though I don't like any of the women they've tried pairing him up with.

dreambeliever: Thanks for reading!

Neve:

I feel kind of sick after reading that and I really do feel sorry for Isabel. I wonder if she has an actual mental illness, to put herself through that for Michael's sake because I really don't think that a person who is in the full saneness of her mind would do that for anybody.

I can't imagine that I would ever put myself in that position for anyone, except for maybe my future husband or children. But the fact that Isabel did that for an ex-boyfriend . . . oh, yeah, it's definitely not out of the question to assume that she has some kind of mental illness. She really might.

The last two chapters have really made me disappointed in Michael and I love Michael. I think he knew what Isabel was going to do, and he let her, granted he didn't know she'd also have to do the two sons, but still.

Sorry that Michael has disappointed you. It was bound to happen at some point. He can't be perfect all the time. Hopefully he'll disappoint you less in this part.

Natasha:

I want to see more of Marty and Jimmy. I haven't heard from them in awhile and they should be part of the shenanigans (yes, I said shenanigans)

I don't know when you'll next see Marty and Jimmy. You will see them again, though, and Marty will be happy-Marty, not down-in-the-dumps-about-Francis Marty. (PS: You're totally bringing "shenanigans" back.)

P.S: Ned is Tracy's son (a Quartermaine) and Lois was one of Sonny's best friends when they were young. But enough about them, let's just look at Jason!

Okay, I remember Ned now. I don't remember Lois at all, though. Maybe I've never seen her. Just look at Jason, huh? Sounds like a good plan. The man is gorgeous.

Leila: Pretty new icon and sig banner. I like the yellow coloring.

Will Alex find out about this?

I don't think so. She's going to keep this a secret.

He knows what Isabel will do with August and yet he had let her go. No matter how much he hates her even heshould have stopped her and go to the police. It's hard to see but right now Michael isn't better than Isabel or Max. Sorry to say this and I really love this Michael.

Michael suspected what she was going to do, but he didn't want to admit it to himself, so he just kind of swept it all under the rug of "Isabel's taking care of it" rather than "Isabel's taking care of it with sex." And I think in this part, he's going to feel a little guilty.

BB:

What the fudge April? Where's the new part?

I love it when you're demanding.

Christina:

It's kinda nice that his life just keeps getting worse and worse, but it does suck that he can't have kids. I know nobody is going to agree with me, but because he is the only good influence on Garret and he seems to strive to try and make the children who are related to him in some capacity better people than how he and Isabel turned out, well, I thought he could have been a good father.

You know, anything's possible. I don't know if Max would ever be as good of a father as Michael is, but he definitely has some potential in that area, and it is sad that he'll never get the chance to give it a shot. Because being a dad could actually bring out the best in Max.

As for Isabel... I think I'm the only one who doesn't feel bad for her. She knew what she was getting herself involved with both times. Perhaps the first time, I would have felt bad for her 'cause the man threatened Garret, but this time... nope. Not one ounce of pity, even though it's gross and hugely demoralizing. I just can't feel bad for her.

That's a valid stance, too. I go back and forth on whether I feel bad for her or not. On the one hand, Michael didn't force her, so she had free will. On the other hand, nobody should be gang-banged like that in those circumstances.








Part 39








That evening, Michael, Maria, Miley, and Macy ate dinner with Ed and Amy. Amy said they didn’t eat in the kitchen anymore, so they all sat in the living room watching Wheel of Fortune, trying to solve the puzzles together, and eating chicken and mashed potatoes. Amy hardly ate anything, and several times during the course of the meal, she looked nauseous, but she made it through.

Maria took on the dishes duty. It was amazing how the girl who once had possessed no accurate definition for the word chores was so good at them now.

“Miley’s asleep,” Michael announced when he joined her in the kitchen. The road trip had worn her out. “I’m pretty tired, too.” He reached for the dishtowel, hoping to help her dry, but she snatched it back from him, grumbling, “I bet you are.”

He frowned in confusion. “What did I do?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“I don’t know. All I know is that you woke up pissed at me and you haven’t quit.”

“Because you deserve it.”

He took a few steps back, surveyed her midsection, and asked, “Are you pregnant?” She definitely didn’t look big, but maybe it was early on.

“No!” she shrieked, accidentally dropping the dishtowel into the full sink. “Why do you assume that just because I’m mad, I’m pregnant? Like you’re some perfect person, like I can never be mad at you just for the heck of it.”

“So that’s why you’re mad at me, just for the heck of it?”

“No, I’m mad at you because you and--” She trailed off abruptly when Amy came into the kitchen, holding onto the walls and the counter as though she could barely stand without support. She was wearing a dark brown wig that went down to her shoulders. She didn’t look like herself.

Maria swallowed hard, fished the soaked dishtowel out of the water, and threw it at Michael. “I’m gonna be outside,” she announced, heading for the back sliding doors with every single one of her emotions right on the edge.

Michael sighed, wringing out the towel over the empty side of the sink. “I’m . . . I’m sorry you had to overhear that,” he apologized to Amy.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you two fight before,” she said, “except when she was pregnant. Is she . . .”

“No,” he answered emphatically before she could even get the whole question out. “I don’t even know what we’re fighting about.”

Amy smiled fondly. “The mysteries of women. You’ll be alright. Just go talk to her.”

Michael nodded, laying the wet towel down on the counter. “I’ll finish these when I get back in,” he said in regards to the dishes, though he had a sneaking suspicion Amy would finish them despite her weak state. “By the way,” he added, “I don’t think you need the wig. You look fine without.”

She mouthed ‘thank you’ and shoed him out the door. Maria was sitting by the edge of the pool with her jeans rolled up and her feet dangling in the water. He sat down next to her on the fake grass that was so common in Vegas and flat-out asked, “Why are you mad at me?”

She rolled her eyes.

“I honestly don’t know,” he went on, “but I want to, so let me have it.” Whatever was bothering her . . . they just needed to get it out in the open and talk about it. He had too much other stuff bothering him to not know what was going on in her head.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“You don’t know why you’re mad at me?”

“No, I know, but I don’t know, you know?”

“No.”

She sighed. “Michael . . .” She made a tiny splash with her foot and looked at him sadly. “I know what happened last night.”

Crap. He really hadn’t wanted her to find out about Augustus. It would have been nice to get the situation taken care of without her ever knowing, without her ever worrying about it. “Did Kyle tell you?” he asked. That was the only way she could have known.

“Kyle knows?” she echoed.

“Yeah.” If she hadn’t heard it from him, who the hell had she heard it from? Maybe Kyle had told Tess and Tess had told Maria?

“He didn’t say anything. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“You-you saw?” he sputtered in alarm. “I didn’t even know you were there.”

“Clearly.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Hadn’t she been curious why he’d been in a back-alley brawl?

“Why didn’t you?” she demanded in return.

“Because I was scared out of my mind.”

“Well, I don’t blame you. That’s a scary person you were with.” She sighed again. “I kinda just . . . ran, although I felt like intervening.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I’m glad you didn’t.” Maria was a tough girl, but those guys were a lot bigger and physically stronger than her. She could’ve gotten hurt.

She wrinkled her forehead and snapped her head to the side. “What?”

“I said I’m glad you didn’t,” he repeated.

She waited a moment, then asked, “Are we talking about the same thing?”

“Me getting beat up at the auction last night?”

“What, you got beat up?” she shrieked, immediately pulling her feet up out of the water. She scooted in closer to him and put one hand on his shoulder, one on his leg. “Oh my god, is that why you’re all bruisy? Is that why you wince when I go like this?” She curled her right hand into a fist and punched his stomach lightly.

He winced and his voice came out high-pitched. “Yeah.”

“Oh my god, what happened? Are you okay?” She sounded hysterical now.

“Yeah, I’m just sore.”

“Thank God.” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Oh, I’m so stupid. Where did I think you got all those bruises, in the bedroom?”

“It’s been known to happen,” he tried to joke. “No, you’re not stupid. I wasn’t gonna tell you.”

She released him and stared at him accusingly. “Why not?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“What happened?”

“A little business gone bad.” He was tired of explaining it, so he opted to give her the abridged version. “You know how we’ve been making so much money lately? Well, turns out, we’ve been making it off a con man.”

Her eyes bulged.

“Yeah, it’s . . .” He shook his head regretfully. “Max told me he got conned by the same guy.”

“Max?”

“Yeah, he was kinda . . . around last night while you were sleeping. He helped me figure out what was going on.”

“So . . . what’re you gonna do?”

“It’s, uh . . .” He didn’t want to bring up Isabel’s role in this, so he replied ambiguously, “It’s being taken care of.”

“The police?” she guessed.

“No. The guys who beat me up threatened you and the girls if I called the police. That’s why I wanted us to get outta town so fast.”

“They threatened our kids?” She looked lethal as she said those words.

“Yeah, but nothing’s gonna happen to them, I promise.”

“I could, like, kill them for even saying that. Seriously, can I kill them?”

"No, I don't want you anywhere near them."

She ran one hand through her hair. “So this is really serious.”

“Yeah.”

“And that’s why you were so paranoid last night. You were taking care of us.”

“Trying to.” He was a feminist by all means, but he still felt that, as the man of the family, taking care of them was his responsibility.

“Oh my god,” she said again. “All this going on, and here I was getting all worked up over you and Isabel.”

“Me and Isabel?” he echoed. Was there a him and Isabel to get worked up about?

“Yeah, I . . . I saw you guys last night. That’s why I was mad,” she revealed. “I’m still not really sure what that was about.”

He nodded slowly. Everything made a little more sense now. He was going to have to tell her that she was involved, which was probably for the best. He didn’t like to feel like he was keeping secrets from her anyway. “You know how I said this whole business situation was taken care of? Well . . . she’s the one taking care of it.”

She just stared at him, for a moment, then spat, “Is that a joke?”

“No, Max said she could help and she agreed to.”

“How’s she gonna help us?”

“I don’t know, but I . . .” He trailed off.

“You trust her?” she filled in.

“No.” He didn’t trust Isabel as far as he could throw her. “But do I trust that she’ll do anything to help me? Yeah.” It sounded arrogant, but it was true.

“You have a point,” she admitted. “A creepy point, but a point nonetheless.”

“She seemed like she really knew what she was doing.” The way she’d talked, it sounded as though settling things with Augustus wasn’t even going to be an issue.

“So that’s why you were talking to her last night? You were . . . soliciting her services?”

He laughed a little, hating the way that sounded. “I should’ve told you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” she agreed. “God, this whole thing , cons and mugging and money . . . it’s so . . . Evans.”

“I know.” The last thing he wanted was any Evans influence in his family’s life.

“It’s Kyle’s fault, isn’t it?” she guessed.

“It’s the gallery’s.”

“But mostly his. I am gonna throttle him.”

“Don’t.”

“Am I gonna have to live in fear the rest of my life now?”

“No, Isabel’s handling it.”

“Yeah, I feel so comfortable putting my life in her hands, not to mention my daughters’ lives,” she muttered sarcastically. “Thank God she’s obsessed with you. Now there’s something I never thought I’d hear myself say.”

He took her hands in his and rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles. “Tell me you didn’t think I was having an affair.”

“No. But . . . you can’t blame me for worrying. She’s your ex and you were acting weird.”

“You know me better than that,” he reminded her. “You know I would never . . .”

“I know. And if you did, it wouldn’t be with her.”

“If I did, it would be with you.”

She made a face. “If you cheated on me, you’d cheat with . . . me?”

He shrugged. “You’re the only one I want.”

She laughed a little and scooted closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I was mad at you.”

“I’m sorry I was secretive.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Shit’s really hitting the fan right now, isn’t it?” she said. “All this stuff with your gallery and my mom.”

“She’ll be okay,” he assured her. “You DeLuca women are tough.”

“So are you,” she said. “I can’t believe you got sucker-punched.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t kill Isabel the moment you saw her.”

“Mine was a silent rage.”

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered.

She snuggled against him. “Let’s not find out.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kyle sat on his living room couch that night, holding and staring at his cell phone. He kept planning on calling Brandon to let him know about Augustus’s con, but it was hard news to deliver. Here Brandon had thought someone was paying so much for his work because he truly loved it. The truth was going to crush him.

Maybe he didn’t have to tell him. If Augustus just faded into oblivion, then Brandon could continue selling his paintings at the gallery without ever knowing. Obviously they wouldn’t sell for as much anymore, but he’d still have those huge numbers to cling to and remember.

Tess came downstairs at about 8:00. She’d left him alone for the majority of the day, done some housework and went shopping, but she seemed concerned about his distant behavior.

“Okay,” she said, “I’ve been trying to get you to ‘celebrate’ with me all day, and you’ve subtly declined. What’s up with that?”

He set his cell phone down on the coffee table. “I guess I’m just not in a real celebratory mood.”

“Why not? You were this morning.” She sat down beside him and rubbed his leg with her hand, nearing dangerously close to his crotch.

“Then Michael came by,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, he has that effect on people,” she joked. When he didn’t laugh, she explained, “That was me kidding, by the way. Michael makes me happy. Although not in the same way you do.” She leaned in closer and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

He turned his head away, feeling . . . stupid. “Tess?”

She looked at him questioningly.

“If this is the best it gets for me, if it’s never ever gonna be this good again, will that be enough for you?”

“Kyle, this isn’t that good,” she informed him. “It’s been a lot better for us, and it’ll be a lot better again.”

“I mean financially,” he clarified. “If I never have another night like the auction when I pull in so much money, will that be okay?”

“That’ll be more than okay,” she assured him. “In a weird way, I think I’d actually prefer it. But trust me, I’d stand by you even if we lived in a cardboard box.”

He smiled, not sure what he’d done to deserve such support. He swallowed hard and started in on his apology. “Tess, I know I haven’t been the man you married for these past few months, and I’m sorry for that. I’m really sorry. But I’m gonna be that man again.” He turned to face her and took her smaller, smoother hands in his. “I’m not gonna devote so much time and energy to work,” he promised, “because in the grand scheme of things, that’s not what’s important. You’re important. And our baby, whenever we have one, is gonna be so important. To both of us.”

She gazed at him with tears in her eyes, and she looked happy. So happy and hopeful . . . he’d forgotten how good it felt to be the one to make her look that way. “Kyle . . .” she whispered before cupping his face in her hands and kissing him. He kissed her back this time, curled her up in his arms, and whisked her upstairs to the bedroom.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hands. Hands and hips. It was all Isabel could feel when she got home. She didn’t feel sad or scared or even angry. She just felt hands and hips, and that made her feel filthy.

The house was dark, except for the TV left on in the living room. Alex was asleep on the couch, a textbook dangling from his hand. Better than a beer. She crept past him and winced as she walked upstairs. Everything hurt.

She thought about taking a shower, but it was so late, and she was so tired. Besides, she didn’t want to get in there and enact a Lifetime movie scene where the victim scrubbed until she bled. And really, she wasn’t a victim. She’d used her power as a woman today to help Michael by letting them use her.

Her stomach felt nauseous.

She changed into a baggy t-shirt and red checked boxers, contemplating whether or not to call Michael. He was probably asleep. Or was Nevada an hour behind? Whatever. She decided she’d call him tomorrow when she hopefully would feel more like herself and less like a whore.

Just as she was about to crawl into her own comfy bed, she decided to go check on Garret. Alex had probably done a shitty job taking care of him that day. He was probably still awake.

When she opened the door to his room, she saw that he was curled up on his side, sucking his thumb. It looked as though he had tried to dress himself in his pajamas, almost like he’d had to tuck himself in. Tears stung her eyes as she gazed at him, and she made her way through the room to sit down beside him. She brushed his hair off his face and thought he looked so small and innocent lying there. She knew she’d been small like that once, though she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever been innocent.

She lay down beside him. There was barely room for her in his tiny twin bed. Her feet hung off the end, but she didn’t care. It felt good to be near him, and she really needed to feel something good. Her life was a complete disaster. Always had been. She’d learned to cope with it. But like all bad things, it got worse at night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael awoke that morning to the sound of his phone ringing. He’d slept pretty well, not because he wasn’t still stressed, but because exhaustion had knocked him out. Plus, the bed in the guest room was really comfortable. It was a king-sized, which pretty much put his double bed at home to shame.

Maria started to stir as the phone was ringing, so he picked it up off the night stand and answered it quickly. “Hello?”

It took a moment for him to get a response, but when he did, he knew instantly it was Isabel. “Hey, it’s me.”

He sat up and got out of bed. “Hey.” He wasn’t sure why, but he slipped out into the hallway. There was just something weird about talking to his ex-girlfriend on the phone while Maria was lying right next to him. “How is everything?” he asked, hoping she was calling with good news.

“Everything’s fine,” she told him. Her voice sounded scratchy, almost as though she’d been crying that morning. “I handled Augustus. Don’t worry, he won’t be bothering you and Kyle anymore. And he won’t hurt your family. I made sure of it.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” It was as though a tremendous weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, you can go back to your perfect life now.”

He frowned. His life wasn’t perfect, but then again, this was the worst things had been in awhile, and they were already getting better. No wonder she sounded so envious. Her life perpetually sucked, and it was her own fault.

“What exactly did you do?” he asked. She’d been extremely tight-lipped about it ever since he’d asked for her help.

It took her a moment to answer, but when she did, she was quiet. “You don’t wanna know.” She ended the call after that, and he just stood there with his phone pressed to his ear, feeling horrified. Somehow he sensed that Isabel had used sex to fix the problem for him, and that made him feel sick. Sure, he didn’t love her anymore, but he had at one time, and now . . .

Maria came out of the bedroom dressed in a long bathrobe of Amy’s, yawning. “Morning,” she greeted, kissing his cheek.

He lowered his phone, still too stunned to say anything. Had he known that Isabel was going to go to such extremes for him, he would’ve found another way to handle it. But then again, maybe there wasn’t another way. Maybe she’d known that and he shouldn’t have felt so bad. This was, after all, the same girl who’d attempted to trick him into fatherhood. She made her own choices, most of them bad. He wasn’t responsible for her.

But he still felt sick about it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Liz felt a tickling sensation on her arm that morning, she assumed it was her husband being annoying and trying to wake her up. “Max, stop,” she mumbled sleepily. She knew that she’d be opening her eyes to trailer park trash, and she was in no hurry to do so. Besides, their bed was so uncomfortable that she’d only managed to snag about two and half hours of sleep that night.

When the tickling sensation didn’t cease, she squirmed. “Stop.” He was seriously pissing her off. “What’re you doing, Max?” She opened her eyes and saw something little and dark crawling up towards her shoulder. “What . . .” At first she thought it was a cricket, but then she realized it was something far more sinister. “Ah, cockroach!” she screamed, flailing her limbs wildly, trying to shake it off. “Cockroach!” She jumped out of bed as Max startled awake.

“What? What’s happening?”

She pointed towards the bed. The bug was crawling around on the dingy sheets. “Cockroach!”

“Where?” Max looked down beside him, and when he saw it, he screamed like a little girl and shot out of bed. “Ah!”

“Get it!” she cried.

He held his pillow over his chest as though it were a shield. “You get it!”

“Max!”

He shrugged helplessly, more unaccustomed to killing disgusting creatures than she was.

“Oh, gross!” She took a fake porcelain paperweight off the wicker nightstand and threw it at the bug, but she couldn’t tell if it was a hit or miss. “Did I get it?”

“I don’t know.” Max continued to clutch his pillow tightly. “Probably not. Those things never die.”

She slouched. What a way to wake up. “I hate this place,” she whined. “Do we have to live here?”

“For now.” He set his pillow back down and started making the bed. “We’re roughing it, Liz. With the critters.”

She hated the critters. She wanted to kill the critters, all of them.

He glanced out the window and remarked, “Look, there’s a snake outside.”

“Are you serious?” She made her way over to the window, stubbing her toe on the foot of the bed, and peered out. There was indeed a snake winding its way towards their trailer. “Oh, I think I might die here,” she groaned.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?”

“That’s what they say. But I don’t wanna be strong. I wanna be rich.” She didn’t care that she sounded like a spoiled brat. Just didn’t care.

“Yeah, me, too.” Max sighed, stepped back from the bed once he’d finished making it, and shrugged as he looked it over. They were both so used to Yolanda making their beds, but she was working for a new family now, one that could actually afford to pay her.

“You gotta work today?” he asked, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“And go to class.” She hated full days like this. Although maybe it would good to be out and away from home since her home was now such a shithole.

He massaged her tense shoulders and said, “So I’ll have to settle for seeing you later.”

She nodded. “Yep. And hopefully you’ll be employed by then.”

“Hopefully.” He bent down and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, and she saw the cockroach skitter across the floor.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After Liz left for school, Max headed out to McDonald’s to check on the status of his potential new job. Potential but unlikely. He could have just called, but he figured showing up in person made a better impression. But then again, what did he know about making an impression? Almost everyone who had ever met him hated him.

The manager was working at the counter when he got there. There were about half a dozen people in line, each ordering the famous Egg McMuffin for breakfast. Max thought about cutting in line, but he stood and waited. Best to look polite. When he finally got up to the front, the manager looked haggard as though the job he had just performed qualified as some form of intensive labor.

“Hi, I’m Max Evans,” he reintroduced himself. “I interviewed with you a couple days ago. I don’t know if you remember me.” Also best to be modest.

“Of course, Max. How could I ever forget you?” The manager didn’t smile when he said that.

“Right. I was just wondering if you’d decided to hire anyone for the drive-thru job. Maybe me.”

“Yes, I hired someone,” the manager revealed. “I’m sorry, Max, I just don’t think you’re McDonald’s material.”

I’m sure as hell not, Max thought proudly. But he could’ve been if it’d meant securing a job.

“I can help whoever’s next,” the manager said, motioning for the next customer to come up to the counter.

Max stepped aside, humiliated that he couldn’t even get a simple job like this. If McDonald’s wouldn’t hire him, who the hell would? No one. He was destined to be unemployed for the rest of his life. He was a loser.

When he got back out, he saw that he still had twenty minutes to spare on his parking meter. And there was a bar across the street called The Comeback. Excellent. It didn’t look as though it were open, but it had probably been open all night, so maybe there was someone in there who would be willing to pour him a cold one. Or two or ten. Luckily he could hold his liquor better than Alex, because he enjoyed it almost as much.

He crossed the street and peered in the window. There was a guy in there jazz dancing while sweeping the floor. Weird. Max reached into his pocket and took out ten bucks. He could milk that ten bucks, make it last for awhile.

He was about to go inside when he remembered where he’d gotten that ten bucks from. He’d stolen it from that girl whose life he’d saved. How pathetic was it that she had more money than him? He wondered what she’d been planning on spending it on. Maybe dolls. Beer was better than dolls.

For whatever reason, he didn’t go into the bar. He walked right next door to the Irvine Rec Center, the same place that girl had walked into a few days earlier. He was practically trampled by two little boys who were running around pointing empty water guns at each other, and he nearly tripled on someone’s Mulan lunchbox that was lying on the floor. All in all, there were about three dozen kids crammed into a room that was half the size of a normal gymnasium. It was so loud that Max could barely hear himself think, and there only appeared to be on adult on duty. Max approached him.

“Hey, is there a girl who comes here? Kinda long, stringy hair?” he asked.

The man on duty turned around and laughed. “Chico, you just described half the students.” He had a pot belly, a thick Spanish accent, and a nametag on that said ‘Hi, I’m Jorge.’

“Students?” Max echoed.

“Yeah, they come here after school or on weekends for homework help. And to stay outta trouble. Lots of gang activity when you’re Mexicano. The ones that don’t wanna be a part of it hang out here ‘til their padres get off work.”

“Well, this should narrow it down: The girl I’m looking for is white.”

That was all it took for a light bulb to go off over Jorge’s head. “Oh, you mean Tiffany? Yeah, she’s, uh . . .” He looked around the room and pointed her out. “She’s over there in the corner.”

Max glanced over at the girl. That was the same one. She was sitting at a table by herself, drawing. She really couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen years old.

“You her social worker?” Jorge asked.

He’d never get hired to be one. “No, she just . . . she dropped some money the other day. I thought I’d give it to back to her.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you.” Jorge smiled as though money were a really big deal to the kids there. “I can give it to her, or you can do it yourself if you want.”

“Yeah, it looks like you got your hands full.” Max motioned with his head to the water gun boys, who were now beating on each other with the guns.

“Oh, muchachos!” Jorge sprang into action, separating them and yelling in Spanish.

Max went over to the corner and stood over Tiffany, casting a shadow across her drawing. “Hey, you dropped your money the other day,” he said. She didn’t even look up, so he took the two five dollars bills out of his empty wallet and dropped them down on the table. “There you go.” Still no reaction.

What a weird kid.

He turned to head on out, but he’d only taken a few steps when something possessed him to turn back around and vent his frustrations. It wasn’t her he was pissed at; it was his life. But in that moment, she was like an outlet. “You’re one ungrateful kid, aren’t you? I saved your life when I easily could’ve let you become a part of the pavement, and now I’m returning your money instead of buying beer with it. And you don’t even say thank you. That’s the least you could do.”

She finally looked up at him, but her face remained emotionless. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Now please leave. You’re interrupting my drawing time.”

“You . . .” He pointed an accusing finger at her, then retracted it slowly. “. . . remind me a lot of myself at your age. You’re a piece of work. I like you.” He sat down beside her in one of those plastic chairs meant for three year olds and took a look at what she was drawing: a tree with no leaves. “I thought you were supposed to be doing homework here,” he said.

She colored in the trunk of the tree with a brown crayon. “I quit doing my homework. It’s a lifestyle choice.”

“So you just draw instead?”

She shrugged. “And write.”

“Ever had anything published?”

“Almost. The school newspaper wanted to publish a story I wrote, but they couldn’t because it was ‘too controversial.’” She rolled her eyes.

“What was it about?”

Tiffany stopped coloring for a moment and didn’t say anything. Then she resumed.

“Why do you come here if you don’t need help with homework?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “Why not just go home?”

“Because my foster parents don’t want me around.”

“I see.” This kid didn’t have the greatest life. Something they had in common these days. “My dad never wanted my sister around,” he said. “She’s screwed up now.”

She gave him a look and said sarcastically, “That’s encouraging, thanks.”

“I’m screwed up, too.”

“Yeah, you look it. And you smell like the city dump.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Trailer park,” he corrected. “Which is basically the same thing.”

She actually cracked a smile, put her crayon down, and slid one of the five dollar bills towards him. “Here you go,” she said.

He was surprised by the gesture, but he was allowed to take this money. He had her permission. “Thanks,” he said, pocketing the cash. “I’m Max, by the way. I used to be rich.”

“I’m Tiffany,” she said. “I’ve always been poor.”

He laughed a little, even though it wasn’t funny, and stood up, knocking his plastic chair over as he did so. “I’ll see you around,” he said as he left. He wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, talking to that girl had made him feel a little better. Maybe he wouldn’t need a drink after all.








TBC . . .

-April

I should note that this part contains a fairly obvious reference to "Gold Diggers" by BB (nibbles2). If for some reason you're not already reading that fantastic fic, go check it out. Although I'm pretty sure everyone is reading it.

There is also a reference to a poem by Sarah Fyge Egerton called "The Emulation."


Ellie:

I am soooo NOT liking Michael very much right now. And to top it all off, you've made me feel for Isabel! How could you? Please! Stop doing that ... please

My, my, how the tables have turned! You'll like Michael again, I promise. Although that isn't to say that he won't do anything else that upsets you throughout the course of this fic.

OMG ... did I read that correctly? Kyle and Tess got it on, without any issues??? It was a good talk between both of them, however, I wish it would have been more. The same issues about the baby and money are going to pop up in the future, I just feel it.

Yep, they're getting along fine right now, but they still haven't gotten their issues out on the table.

Novy:

Even though Isabel is responsible for her own circumstances it can't be good to feel like you had a hand in another horrible thing she did in her life. I wonder if he will talk to her when they get back.

Oh, yes, Michael will be feeling pretty guilty about the whole situation, so he'll talk to her.

I wonder what Tess will think of this whole mess.

Come to think of it, I’m not sure if she ever finds out!

Tinkerbell_Luvs_Roswell:

As for Liz I am probably the only one that doesn't hate her.

You’re not the only one. Maybe I’m biased because I’m the one writing her, but I don’t hate her, either. She’s my least favourite character in the fic, but I still enjoy writing her. There has been a lot of talk about how complex Max and Isabel are, but in a way, Liz might actually be the most complex character of this story.

Rodney:

This was a great Kyle/Tess scene.I've always thought that Kyle not only wanted to be 'rich' in order to care for the baby but that he also had to be rich to impress Tess.

Of course! What guy wouldn’t want to be rich in order to impress his wife? Add in the fact that Tess dated Max the multi-millionaire . . . granted, it was a miserable relationship, but Kyle would still like to be measure up to Max financially.

I laughed at how Michael and Maria were talking and carrying on the conversation but not talking about the same thing over the secret Isabel meeting/Michael getting beat up

Yeah, I wanted to add a little humour to a bad situation.

Nat: Hey, girl! I missed you!

The M family is adorable. Michael's still a bit dull but I like that in a man

That’s good. I promise that Michael will liven up as the story goes on.

The make-up scene in the last chapter was cute but they never actually dealt with the fact that Kyle isn't ready while Tess is steam-rolling the poor guy.

That’s right, they never dealt with it. This issue is far from over, especially since, much like in 521, they’re having problems communicating.

Isabel reminds me of a serial killer.

I'll always love Max. He's an asshole but there's so much more there too. And I think he really means it when he says that he loves Liz and Garrett. He's never going to be Micheal or Kyle but I don't think he could ever be an Isabel either. Isabel said it best (and this is only paraphrasing) "Max's heart was smaller than others but it beats louder than anyone's". I think he will surprise us the most by the end of this fic.

I have a soft spot for Max, too, even if I shouldn’t. He’s probably my favourite character to write in this fic. I’m glad you pointed out that line, because I think it’s one that describes him the best.

Leila:

I like Tiffany. Wait, I already love her.She's cool. So I'm curious about hers and Max "friendship"

I like Tiffany, too. The last chapter was a huge turning point for Max, but he doesn’t even realize it yet.


Thanks for the feedback, everyone! I’ll probably update again on Friday.









Part 40








Even though Michael had said that the Augustus situation was taken care of and they could head back to Santa Fe, Maria wanted to spend one more day in Vegas. Her mom had offered to take her wedding dress shopping; and since she was insisting on paying for the dress, too, no expense spared, it was an offer Maria couldn’t really refuse.

They headed to downtown Las Vegas, Fremont Street. Maria wanted to enjoy the sights and take in Sin City, but she couldn’t help but notice how slowly her mother was walking, how frail she looked. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself she was on vacation, there was always the lingering fear in the back of her mind that this would be one of the last times she’d ever spend with her mother.

“I don’t know, Mom,” she said as they walked along the sidewalk. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“Yes, I have cancer, not a flesh-eating disease.” Amy stumbled and grabbed onto Maria’s arm for support.

“You do look pretty fierce, all things considered,” Maria told her. She was rocking the headscarf.

“It’s the makeup. I caked it on this morning,” Amy joked. “Now you’ll be doing the ‘I do’ before you know it, and you need to be prepared. So I hope you’re ready to try on lots of wedding dresses today. Vegas has the best bridal stores around. Do you have anything particular in mind?”

“Um . . . I don’t know, not really.” The past few months hadn’t afforded Maria a lot of time to think about her wedding dress. “I’d kind of like a strapless dress, but let’s face it, I don’t have the chest for it.”

“Well, we could get you implants while we’re out and about.”

Maria gave her mother an astonished look. That was so Liz.

“Kidding,” Amy said. “Do you want something big and poofy or more form-fitting?”

“Definitely not big and poofy. But I don’t want it to hug every single curve, either. I don’t know, I’ll just have to try stuff on.”

“When you find the perfect dress, you’ll just know,” Amy told her.

“Yeah. Or I could just wear yours.”

“Which one, the first or the second?” Amy laughed. “No, that’s sweet of you, Maria, but you’re getting married just this once and you deserve your own brand new gown. But twenty-five years from now, if you and Michael decide to renew your vows, then maybe you could wear mine.”

“If I still fit in it,” Maria mumbled, hating herself for thinking, If you’re still here.

“You will,” Amy assured her. “We DeLuca women are petite.”

“So says the woman who stopped at two kids. Michael wanted us to have, like, eight until I talked him down.”

“Eight kids?” Amy’s face lit up. “Oh, wouldn’t that be delightful?”

“A little too delightful, I’m afraid.” Maria opened the door to a store called Dream Dress for Less and helped her mother inside. The minute they walked in, all the sales clerks and customers turned and stared at them.

“Oh my god,” Maria grumbled, thinking that they were looking at her mother’s scarf. “Can people be any more rude and insensitive? What’s the matter with you, people? Haven’t any of you seen a cancer patient before?”

“Uh, honey? They’re not looking at me,” Amy said quietly. “They’re looking at you. Your pants are unzipped.”

“Oh.” Maria quickly pulled her zipper up. “Sorry,” she apologized, blushing with embarrassment.

“So . . .” Amy smiled. “Let’s find you a wedding dress.”

Maria looked around the store. There were definitely plenty to choose from, and they all looked beautiful.

For the next hour, she tried on every dress that caught her eye as well as every dress that caught her mother’s eye. She tried on strapless gowns, even though she knew they wouldn’t work, and big and poofy gowns even though she didn’t want one. She tried on dresses that were mermaid style, dresses that were best described as hippie chic, and halters. Amy gave her a thumbs up or a thumbs down on every single one of them, but it wasn’t until the very end that Maria found the one she wanted. It was strapless, but since it had a built-in bra, it fit her perfectly, didn’t feel like it was falling down or anything. It was simple, slightly ruffled at the bottom, and had a low back. It had about a three foot train, and the cool fabric felt good on her body. Once she put on a veil to go with it, it all felt perfect. And real.

“Oh, that’s the one,” Amy said. “Am I right? Is this the one?”

“This is the one,” Maria said, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She twirled around in the dress, and she wondered what Michael would think when he saw her wearing that, when she walked down the aisle. That day was only a few months away. It was going to be such a great day.

“Oh my god,” she said. “I’m getting married.” Being engaged was great, but she so wanted to be a Guerin.

Amy got up and hugged her. Maria held onto her tightly, not wanting to let go. This had been a great day, and her mother had been a big part of it. Now all she could do was hope and pray she’d still be there for the wedding itself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was an envelope from the university in the mail, which Isabel had anticipated yet also dreaded seeing. She knew it was a tuition bill for Alex, and considering the cost of tuition kept on rising and Alex wasn’t smart enough to have any kind of scholarship, the number wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Mommy, come read to me,” Garret said as she carried the mail back into the house.

“In a minute.” She threw the junk mail into the trash and sliced open the envelope with fingernail. When she took out the bill, it was even worse than she’d imagined. College couldn’t possibly be worth that much.

A knock on the door distracted her. She set the bill down on the counter and went to answer it. A woman stood on the other side, someone Isabel didn’t recognize. She was semi-attractive with shoulder-length brown hair, bedroom eyes, and decent clothing. She may have been a knockout had she not had an air of insecurity about her.

“What?” Isabel barked impatiently. She was in no mood to deal with an Avon lady, or worse, a Jehovah’s Witness.

“Um . . . hi,” the woman said quietly. “You must be Isabel.”

“Great, I’m famous.” Was this one of her father’s many mistresses, perhaps? Because she’d dealt with those before.

The woman tucked her hair behind her ear—a clear indicator of nervousness for anyone who had any knowledge of body language—and asked, “Is Alex around? I need to talk to him.”

“You know Alex?” Suddenly this wasn’t so much annoying as it was perplexing. For the longest time, she’d been thinking Alex didn’t even know how to socialize. She narrowed her eyes and studied the woman up and down. Long lost relative? They did sort of look alike. “Who are you?”

“I’m Caroline,” she replied, “Caroline Rhodes.”

The name didn’t ring familiar, but it did shoot her long lost relative idea to hell. She knew for a fact there were no Rhodes members of her husband’s family. “Alex isn’t here,” she said.

“Oh, um . . . okay.” Caroline looked down at her feet and tucked her hair behind her ear again. “Well, when he gets back, will you tell him I came by? It’s really important.”

Isabel crossed her arms over her chest, trying to appear flippant. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Thanks.” Caroline smiled shakily, turned, and left. Isabel stood in the doorway and watched her drive away. This little encounter, whatever it had been about, had left her feeling more unsettled than the tuition bill. And considering how steep the bill was, that was saying something.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Liz had a test to take that day. In between moving into the trailer and fending off the cockroaches, she hadn’t had the chance to get much studying done, so she didn’t have high hopes for it. She was actually thrilled to get to work. The one nice thing about no customers was no stress.

“You’re late,” Tess said when she walked in the door. She was sitting at her desk sketching out a room on an HP touchpad.

“Actually, I never will be,” Liz mumbled, flinging her bag down beside her desk.

Tess gave her a confused look.

“Never mind.” Max would kill her if he knew she told anyone about his fertility issues.

“So how’s the trailer?” Tess asked.

“Oh my god, it sucks so bad.”

“Hmm. You know, when I was in sixth grade, my teacher didn’t want us to say ‘sucks,’ so she told us to say ‘vacuums.’”

“Fine, then it vacuums big time.” Liz sat down at her desk and turned her computer on. “Let’s just say something happened this morning that will forever be known as The Cockroach Incident of 2012.” She’d been having phantom feelings all day of that creepy little thing roaming over her arm.

“God, you’re such a spoiled rich girl,” Tess teased.

“It’s just really hard to go from that to . . .” She gestured with her hands wildly. “This.” There really wasn’t a word for how badly her life had vacuumed as of late. “You don’t know what it’s like. You’ve never been . . .” She trailed off before she said something insulting.

“What, rich?” Tess made a face of disgust. “No, and at this rate, I never will be.”

“I thought Kyle’s gallery was really taking off.”

“It is, but we ran into a setback in the form of a con artist.”

Liz sat up straighter in her chair.

Tess shook her head. “Don’t ask. But look, the moral of the story is, money doesn’t buy everything.”

“But it buys a lot of things.” Liz clicked on the Internet Explorer icon when her screen came up. She figured she’d spend most of her afternoon at work looking up beautiful houses that made her unbelievably envious.

“You and Max still have so much to look forward to, though,” Tess pointed out. “Like a new home someday, new careers. Kids.”

Liz tried to mask the look that came over her by glancing down at her keyboard.

“I mean, unless you don’t want kids,” Tess quickly added, seeming to sense that something was off.

Liz sighed, typing Google’s URL into her address bar. “Yeah,” she muttered in discouragement, “we have a lot to look forward to.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Alex got home, it was nighttime. He didn’t say where he’d been, but then again, he didn’t need to. He smelled like the bar, just like he always did.

“We got your tuition bill today,” Isabel informed him.

“Oh, yeah? I bet that was ugly.”

“About half as ugly as your Pay-Per-View porn bill.”

“I only bought, like, two movies,” he said.

“Twenty, but who’s counting?”

He shrugged and sat down on the couch. “Sorry.”

“I’m not mad. I just don’t understand why you would pay for that stuff when you can get it online for free. It’s fiscally irresponsible.”

“Well, I wouldn’t even be watching it if . . .” He trailed off quickly.

“What, if I slept with you?” She didn’t recall any sexual obligations in their wedding vows.

“Never mind,” he grumbled, lifting a thick book out his backpack. Isabel went into the kitchen, grabbed the last beer out of the refrigerator, and chugged half of it before dumping the other half down the sink. Something about eliminating the source of her husband’s addiction made her smirk. He’d just go out and buy more tomorrow, though.

“What class is that book for?” she asked, wondering what his reaction would be when she brought up this Caroline chick. She’d certainly made it sound like they knew each other. The question was just how intimately they knew each other.

“Uh . . . British Literature,” he replied. “We’re reading feminist poems from way back when.”

She traipsed into the living room and sat down beside him, recalling an especially angry feminist poem called ‘The Emulation’ that had always struck a chord with her. “And shall these finite males reverse their rules, No, we’ll be wits and then men must be fools,’” she quoted. “We read that in my high school British Lit class.”

“Sounds like your kind of poem,” Alex said.

“It is. It’s my favorite.” She smiled at him, lulling him into a false sense of security, and then she sprung it on him. “Who’s Caroline?”

He stiffened for a moment, then tried to cover it up. But it was a moment too long. “Caroline?” he echoed. “Do I know a Caroline?”

“Caroline Rhodes. Brown hair, pretty. She came by here today looking for you, said she needed to talk about something important.”

Upon hearing that, he changed his tune. “Oh, Caroline. Right. She’s in my business class. We’ve got a, uh . . . a group project to do. She probably just wanted to talk about that.”

“Right.” She stared daggers at him and said, “You slept with her.”

Again, he tensed.

“I’m not an idiot, Alex. You’re a horrible liar.” What he should have done was outright deny it, but calmly. Getting too worked up was an obvious sign of guilt.

“Okay, yeah, I did sleep with her,” he admitted easily. “So? You cheated on me. As far as I know, you’re still cheating.”

“Look, I’m not jealous,” she clarified. “I’m just . . . shocked.”

“What, that I’d be attracted to someone other than you?”

“No, that she would be attracted to you. You’re not a catch.” He had been years ago, back when he’d had an overflowing bank account instead of an alcohol problem.

“We had some common ground,” Alex informed her, proceeding to tell her everything.

****

“So the short version is, my cousin Carla’s the biggest bitch in the world.”

Alex laughed. “Oh, obviously you’ve never met my wife. She holds that title.”

“Obviously you’ve never met Carla.” Caroline raised her beer. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” He tapped his drink against hers and took a sip. He came into Rodeo’s almost every night, and every night he hated his wife just a little bit more. But tonight was . . . different. He’d just gotten off the phone with his private investigator.

“So your wife’s really bad, huh?” Caroline said, leaning in closer.

“Yeah. She’s cheating on me. I just found out about it.”

“Then why do you stay with her?”

He sighed heavily, afraid that his status as a father was going to be a deal-breaker. “Because we have a son together. That makes it complicated.”

She didn’t seem disinterested.

“What about you?” he asked. “Any kids?”

“No. No boyfriend, either. And no job.” She laughed and took another drink. “Aren’t I a catch?”

He grinned, feeling like they had a lot in common.

****

“And from that point on, it gets a little hazy,” Alex finished up quickly.

Isabel rolled her eyes. “Your entire life is hazy.”

“No, just the last four years,” he shot back. “But I do know I slept with her, and then a few months later, I ran into her and slept with her again. And you know what? I enjoyed it.”

“Why would she come to our house? Booty call?” Could it possibly have been that enjoyable?

“I don’t know. Maybe,” he said.

“You don’t think she’s . . .” She trailed off.

“What, pregnant? No, we were safe.”

That was a relief. One kid was enough. “Well then, maybe she’s in love with you,” she said, almost choking on the words.

“It’d be nice if somebody was.” He shoved his book at her and got up, heading into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, and when he saw that it contained no alcohol, he turned and glared at her. She glared right back.

She was by no means Spiderman, but her spider sense was still tingling nonetheless.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael and Maria drove home on a Monday. Maria was missing her methods class, but she doubted she was missing anything life-altering, so she didn’t lose too much sleep over it. They once again got an early start and were back in New Mexico in the afternoon.

“What was the last thing I said to my mom?” Maria asked as they drove on down the highway. “You know, just in case.”

“We’re almost home. You can call her when we get there,” he said. “But it was ‘I love you,’ by the way.”

“Good.” She wanted to end every phone and in-person conversation with her mom with an ‘I love you.’

“So she really bought you a wedding dress, huh?”

“Yep, and it’s a gorgeous wedding dress if I do say so myself.” When her hair was all fancy and her make-up was perfect on the big day itself, she was going to feel like a princess.

“Can I see it?” he asked.

“No, it’s like a custom-fitted thing. I don’t have it yet. The bridal store has to send it to their Santa Fe outlet and I have to go pick it up there,” she explained. “Besides, it’s bad luck for you to see me in it, and considering my mom’s state of health, we don’t need any bad luck in our lives.”

“Then maybe I could just see you out it,” he suggested.

“Maybe tonight you can see me out of everything.”

He grinned and glanced at the backseat where Miley was still sleeping. Good. Sexual innuendo lines like that would scar her for life.

“So just to double check,” Maria said, “we’re going back to an Augustus-free life, right? Isabel . . . helped?” She cringed as she said the words.

“Yeah, we don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

What a relief. “I should thank her, but I won’t,” Maria decided. “I doubt she sacrificed that much for us.”

Michael gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “I just wanna forget this ever happened.”

So did she. She hated the fact that they’d had to ask Isabel for assistance, and she hoped they never had to do it again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It felt weird for Kyle to head home from work at 4:00 instead of 6:00. He felt like he was being unproductive, but he’d promised Tess that he would spend less time at work and more time at home with her now, and he intended to keep that promise. By about 3:50 that day, he was finishing up with his work when someone pounded on the glass doors at the front.

“We’re closed,” he called without glancing up. The door was locked and the ‘closed’ sign was displayed. Wasn’t it obvious?

Apparently not, because the pounding continued.

“I said we’re closed.” Kyle glanced up, annoyed, and saw Max standing outside. Max? He shook his head and went back to his office to get his coat.

“Kyle,” Max called loudly from outside. “Kyle. I’m just gonna stand out here and annoy you until you let me in. I’ll follow you home. Ky-le . . .” He started to hum and whistle like the freak he was.

Fed up, Kyle went to the door but didn’t open it. “What?”

“Can I come in?” Max asked.

“No.”

“Alright then, I’ll just send out this naked picture of Tess to everyone I know.” Max reached into his pocket, took out his cell phone, and started punching buttons.

“What?” Kyle opened the door and seized the phone. “Give me that.”

“Thanks, Kyle.” Max slipped inside.

Kyle sifted through the first few photos on Max’s phone and handed it back to him. “There is no naked picture,” he realized.

“I know, but wouldn’t it be cool if they were?”

“What’re you doing here?”

Max put his phone back in his pocket and wiped off his shoes on the rug at the entrance. “I just wanted to find out if the Augustus situation got resolved. Did it?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t want to talk about it, though. Augustus was going to be a sore topic for awhile.

“Good. That’s really good. I’m happy for you.”

Kyle saw right through the act. Max was never happy for anyone. “Okay, unless you’ve had a personality transplant, something’s up. What do you want?”

Max lowered his head and hesitated a moment before mumbling, “I need a job.”

“Yeah.” Unemployment made him a bigger loser than ever.

Max raised his head and looked right at him, communicating without saying a word.

“Uh, you can’t have one here,” Kyle informed him hastily.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re you.”

“Right, me, the guy who helped you out with Augustus.”

“Actually, that was Isabel,” Kyle reminded him.

“But I got the ball rolling. That’s gotta count for something.”

Kyle shrugged. “It doesn’t.”

“But you and Michael could use my help,” Max kept on. “You’re running a business and I am a businessman. I’d be an asset.”

“When you’re not off violating innocent girls you mean?”

Max sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. “What’s a guy gotta do to get past that? I’m married now. That was the old me.”

Who’s he kidding? Kyle wondered. That’s still him. Time passed, sure, but a tiger didn’t change its stripes, especially not when the stripes were as large and unchangeable as Max’s. “You must be out of your mind,” he decided. “You really think I’d even entertain the idea?”

“Well, I was hoping. Come on, I was a fucking CEO at the age of twenty-one.”

“Yeah, ‘cause your dad croaked early.” There was nothing impressive about that.

“That doesn’t matter. I had a company.”

“And you don’t anymore. Why would anyone wanna hire you?”

Max quickly switched tactics. “Alright, can I at least be a janitor then?”

“A janitor?” Kyle tossed his head back and laughed. If only he’d had a tape recorder. This was an epic moment. “You’re getting so pathetic right now, you realize that?”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if this wasn’t my last resort. I just thought that maybe you’d wanna help Liz so she doesn’t have to drop out of grad school.”

“Hey, if Liz needs help, I’ll give her a loan,” Kyle offered. “But I wouldn’t pay you even if you earned it.” Liz and Max were different people, and she was a lot better than him as far as he was concerned. “I just got done dealing with one creep. I really don’t wanna deal with another.” And that was exactly what Max was, had been, and always would be: a creep. If he never got another job for the rest of his life, it would serve him right.

“Dammit,” Max swore, sulking away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Liz stayed at work as long as she could that day. She was avoiding her trailer like the plague because it probably contained remnants of the plague. It was just that filthy. When she got home, she found Max sitting on the couch, his hands in his lap.

“Hey,” she said, pulling the rickety screen door closed behind her. The look on his face was definitely not the look of somebody who’d just gotten a job.

“How was work?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Uneventful. But I decided I’m gonna set aside about a hundred dollars a month so we can save up enough money to rent an apartment.”

He flinched.

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t like not being the breadwinner, but . . .” She sat down beside him, not sure what else to say.

“Just so long as we have bread,” he said. “You wanna know what I did today?”

“Killed that cockroach?” It was still running around as far as she could tell.

“I asked Kyle for a job,” he revealed. “Didn’t get one, obviously.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wow, you asked . . . you asked Kyle for a job? That’s . . .”

“Pathetic,” he filled in.

“Well, I was gonna go with desperate, but . . .”

He gave her a look.

“Sorry,” she apologized. Too soon to joke. But really, if he had asked his ex-girlfriend’s husband for a job, that meant there was literally nothing else out there for him.

“I was willing to be a janitor,” he said, sounding ashamed.

“A janitor?” The thought of Max working any kind of minimum wage job was so . . . unnatural.

“Maybe my dad was right,” he said, sounding defeated. “Maybe you do have to be shrewd to be successful. Maybe I wasn’t shrewd enough. I tried to run an honest business, but I should’ve connived more, should’ve been more ruthless. Should’ve been more like my dad. Then maybe I would’ve been successful.”

“You also would’ve been a monster,” she pointed out. She’d only had about two encounters with Phillip Evans while he was alive, but they had been two encounters too many. The man had to have been some special kind of evil to have had such a bad influence on both of his kids.

“According to everyone who’s not you, I’m already a monster,” he informed her. “They think I can’t change.”

“Max . . .” She placed one hand on his shoulder, feeling how knotted his muscles were. “I think we both need to stop measuring success by how much money we have or where we live. Success isn’t about that. It’s about the relationships you have with people.” That sounded so . . . Hallmark channel and cheesy, but it was the only thing she could come up with. Maybe if she said it enough, she’d start to believe it herself.

“Well, then I’m still unsuccessful,” he said, “because the only meaningful relationship I have is with you.”

She frowned. “Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s enough for me. I just wonder if it’s enough for you.”

She withdrew her hand, having grown accustomed to his insecurities over the past few months. It didn’t matter how many times she promised him she’d never leave him; he never seemed to believe it.

“What about Garret?” she pointed out. “He loves you so much. He thinks you’re the coolest person in the world.”

“‘Cause he’s a kid. ‘Cause he doesn’t really know me.” Max hung his head and sighed. “I’ll never have a son of my own. I’ll never get the chance to do right with him all the things my father did wrong with me.”

She shifted uncomfortably. Although she was bothered by that news, too, she felt the need to hide her feelings on the subject to protect him. “But you still have a nephew who idolizes you,” she reminded him. “Just . . . be somebody worth idolizing.”

He swallowed hard, then nodded slowly. Liz put her arms around him and hugged him, worried. Max seemed as though he were hovering dangerously close to a state of depression, and for that reason, she had to be the strong one, even if she felt weak herself.







TBC . . .

-April