CONNECTIONS

PART FIVE

CONNECTIONS
Chapter 5a

Comments to Advocate advocate8704@yahoo.com & Rsawest rsawest@usa.net
For Disclaimers see Chapter 1a

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With a final twist Claire adjusted the leather band at the end her braid. Stepping out of the bathroom, she padded over to her bed where she carefully inspected the small, but essential stack of items she'd weeded out of her purse and briefcase. Today she felt like traveling light. Claire fumbled through the pile until she ended up with a single check, her driver's license and several twenty-dollar bills. Grunting with satisfaction, she stuffed the items deep into soft denim pockets. Now that's what I call light. Okay, shirt next.

Claire frowned as she looked at the nearly knee deep pile of clothes on the floor. How come I have a double wide closet full of clothes, but every time I wanna wear something it's in that pile? Delaying her shirt selection, she reached into her drawer and pulled out a nude colored lace bra. Looking at the device, she grimaced again. I'd love to cold-cock the bastard that invented this. After a moment's indecision, she simply stuffed the much-hated item back in its drawer. I'm on vacation! She told herself defiantly. Selecting a bright green tie-dyed T-shirt, Claire pulled on her sneakers, grabbed her sunglasses, and went to wait for Amanda near the front door.

As she impatiently waited for her companion, Claire's mind began replaying Monica and "Chucky's" visit. Her hands twitched nervously as she began to brood. How could they treat Amanda that way? Bursting into her home, wanting money? I should have tossed her dead-assed sister out on her ear before she got a chance to demand back "her" daughter. Heartless bitch!

Claire tried to stop the steady decline of her mood. She knew it was a slippery slope, but despite herself, she continued to silently seethe. She made her cry. I can't stand seeing her cry! Her mind whined. I don't want her to be upset. She should be happy, Dammit. I want that. Claire stopped dead in her tracks. Wow! She marveled. I really do want that…and not just a little. Claire sat down on the couch as she tried to wrap her mind around what was basically a foreign concept. Her eyes widened with realization. When did I start caring? No. From the first moment I saw her I cared. When did I REALLY start caring?

KNOCK…KNOCK…KNOCK

Claire jumped up, slightly startled, as the light tapping pulled her from her thoughts. "Coming," she called out. Grabbing her cell phone off the coffee table, she neatly clipped it to her belt. Claire grabbed the cool doorknob then hesitated. Pulling back her hand, she noticed its dampness. Claire wiped her palms on her thighs and opened the door, smiling at her own nervousness and excited sense of anticipation. Boy, if this is the UPS guy I'm gonna be really disappointed. She wasn't disappointed.

The attorney gazed affectionately at her smaller companion. Dressed in faded jeans, a navy polo shirt, and topsiders, Amanda looked comfortable and relaxed. She looks so cute and clean cut, like something out of L.L. Bean, Claire mused. "Hi."

"Hi." Amanda shifted her weight onto her heels, a little nervous at the prospect of spending the afternoon with her friend even after only a couple days apart. It was, she decided, a good sort of nervous. The kind that made your pulse race, just a little...and your stomach flutter. "Umm…are you ready to go?"

"You bet." Claire stepped out of the front door and pulled it shut. Slipping on her sunglasses, she turned and punched several buttons on the security keypad.

Amanda peeked around Claire's shoulder and stared at the device. "Keys are too low tech for you, huh?"

Claire flashed her companion a lop-sided grin as they walked back to the Audi. "Not really, I just can't seem to keep from losing them. After I had the locksmith out here 4 times last year, I figured this would be a lot cheaper in the long run."

As the women buckled their seatbelts, Amanda looked over at Claire. Lifting a pale brow, she inquired, "Did you forget something?"

Claire wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "Well…um…" She looked back toward the house. "Oh, I decided not to bring a purse. Is that what you mean?"

Amanda smiled and turned on the ignition. Laying her hand on the side of Claire's headrest, she twisted, craning her neck, and began backing down the long winding driveway. "Not really," she laughed. "You know…when I bought this car, I checked out all the magazine and online ratings articles. I showed up at the dealership with a pile of reviews, a highlighter, and clipboard." Amanda noticed Claire's eyes had widened. "Jody said I was being…"

"Anal retentive?" Claire helpfully supplied.

"No!…Well…yes, actually," the blonde admitted. "Only I think her description involved some minor profanity and lump of coal."

Claire turned her head and clamped her hand over her mouth. Schooling her face to remain neutral, she tried to think of something to say.

Smirking at Claire's poorly hidden internal struggle, Amanda let out a small laugh of her own. "It's not that funny!" But the smaller woman's smile conveyed the opposite of her words.

"Of course not," Claire said seriously.

Exiting onto the street, Amanda slid the car into drive and donned on her own sunglasses. "Besides, I was going to buy. You're just looking."

"Not," Claire immediately shot back. "Car shopping sucks," she snorted.
"I'm only doing this once."

Amanda looked over at Claire like she was crazy. "But...but…" she stammered.

"Relax, Mandy. I know exactly what I want," the darker women reassured.

Amanda exhaled, relived. "Well, that's great Claire. You had me a little worried. I would hate for you to rush into something and then be unhappy about it later. I mean it's not like you've had any time to think about this. And I do feel responsible because…"

Claire shot her friend a warning look, which Amanda acknowledged sheepishly.

"Okay, but this is at least partially my fault," she insisted. Before Claire could respond, she changed the subject. "So what kind of car are you going to get?"

"A red one," Claire responded happily.

Amanda waited few seconds for Claire to finish but her companion remained silent. Amanda rolled her eyes impatiently. "God, Claire, a red what!" the blonde exclaimed.

"Car?" Claire offered lamely. But Amanda caught the playful grin she was trying to hide.

"Are you having fun yanking my chain, Counselor?"

Tilting her head, Claire pulled her glasses down until dark lashes could be seen fluttering over the frame and pale blue eyes laughed silently. "Umm...Hmm."

"Do I at least get to know where I'm driving you?" Amanda slowed down slightly as she passed a bicyclist.

Claire pushed her glasses back into place and snuggled into her seat. "I guess where we go will depend on how long we have."

Amanda pulled the car to a stop just as the light turned red. "Well, I need to pick Missy up by 6:00 o'clock."

"You mean you don't have to go back to work this afternoon?" Claire asked delightedly.

"Nope." She grinned. "I'm all yours."

"Really?" Claire whispered her voice suddenly serious.

Amanda sucked in a quick breath, wishing her she could see the blue eyes hidden behind the glasses. Claire's jaw was clenched and her breathing had stilled. "W...what do mean?"

HONK…HOOOONK!!!!

"Oh shit…Sorry." The young therapist lifted a hand in apology as she moved through the intersection while the car behind her angrily sped by. She turned back to Claire. "Claire, what…"

RING...RING... RING.

Amanda exhaled loudly in frustration. Jesus Christ! Is there some sort of conspiracy I don't know about!

Claire shot her an apologetic look as she unclipped her cell phone. "Hello."

"Hi Claire, it's me."

"Hiya Mark, what's up?" Claire mentally sighed with relief. Great timing, Buddy. Thanks.

"You're not gonna believe this but we found your car." The phone crackled.

"You're kidding me?" Claire exclaimed, clearly surprised.

"What's going on?" Amanda whispered curiously.

Claire pulled the phone from her ear and placed a hand over the receiver. "They found my car."

"You're not alone are you? Is that pretty blonde you were telling me about with you?" Mark queried.

"Nope." Claire answered the first part of Mark's question, ignoring the rest. "As a matter of fact, I'm off to go shopping with a friend but I guess..."

"Well, don't change those plans, my friend." Claire looked at the phone in confusion. "I should have been more specific," Mark apologized. "We found what's left of your car."

"Ahhh. I see." Claire frowned and saw Amanda raise her eyebrows in question. Before she could answer her friend's unspoken question, Amanda grimaced as she guessed what Mark was saying.

"Why don't you come by and take a look, Claire," Mark suggested. You can pick up a few personal items that were still in the car and sign the police report."

Claire nearly said no, not wanting to spoil her afternoon with Amanda, but she relented, knowing it would save time in the long run. "Okay, Mark. I guess we can stop over now. Thanks for keeping an eye out for me. I really appreciate it." Claire motioned her fingers as though she was writing on an imaginary piece of paper and Amanda pointed to the glove box. After a few quick scribbles on a Taco Bell napkin, Claire clicked the phone shut.

Amanda silently pulled over, expecting Claire to be angry. Her friend's response was a pleasant relief.

"Looks like I'll get my insurance money a little faster," Claire said with a smile. They found my car in St. Paul." This was the part she didn't want to tell Amanda. "It's…um…"

"Trashed," Amanda guessed, embarrassment coloring her voice.

Claire shifted in her seat. "Basically, yeah. I'll still need to get something else. Would it be okay if we went over there so I could sign the police report? Mark's there now." Claire turned sympathetic eyes on the younger woman. "Don't worry about the car, Mandy. I'm not." She spoke softly.

Swallowing down her own embarrassment and the nearly overwhelming urge to strangle her sister, Amanda smiled weakly. "I'll try." Time to change the subject before I start crying again. "Is this the same Mark you were telling me about?"

"Yep. He's got a ton of friends at the cop shop and they let him know as soon as it turned up." Claire showed Amanda the napkin and green eyes widened. A slow nod and Amanda merged back into the traffic.

"I…um…know the general area, but I may need a little help with the exact location." God, I hope Monica isn't staying in that neighborhood.

"Sure. No problem. I don't think it will be hard to find." Claire fiddled with her cell phone, having trouble clipping it to her belt while seated. What was I thinking asking Amanda to go into that part of the city? Duh! The lawyer mentally scolded herself. For several minutes the only sound in the car was the gentle breathing of its occupants. As they crossed the bridge into St. Paul, Claire began to wonder how a date that started off so well had turned so depressing.

"Have you eaten lunch yet?" I know she loves to eat.

A blonde slowly shook her head 'no'.

"Do you want to grab something after I deal with the police?"

The red-gold head nodded vigorously. "Sure! I'll do whatever you want." Amanda couldn't help but smile at the thought of food. She'd missed breakfast that morning.

"Anything?" the contralto voice purred.

Amanda's head snapped to the side. "Well…I…um....I...."

Claire laughed as the smaller woman turned beet red. "Oooh, you are so cute when you do that," she chuckled as her companions flush deepened.

Amanda's eyes narrowed. "Aren't you the funny one, smarty pants. I'll get you for that Claire," she threatened, but giggled herself as Claire's face twisted in mock fear. The rest of the drive was spent in pleasant conversation.

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"Bastards!" Amanda growled. "Why would they anyone do that?"

Claire and Amanda stood alongside Mark and several uniformed police officers that were leaning against their cruisers. The alleyway smelled like urine and burning oil. The fire engine had already pulled away, but the Explorer's interior was still smoking, spreading a pungent odor for several blocks. It had taken several minutes for Claire's stomach to stop churning.

The hood of the Explorer had been torn off and laid strewn aside a nearby dumpster. Its wheels were completely missing, as was the stereo system and most of the engine. The leather seats had been sloppily skinned and the cab's interior was littered with charred stuffing. Mark had been generous when he described it as a 'car.'

Claire looked up at her friend who had just waved 'goodbye' to one of his firefighter buddies. "Amanda's right. Why completely destroy it? Wouldn't you get more money for it intact? For Christ's sake it wasn't even six months old!"

Mark nodded then sighed. "That's true, but that would take a little time if you weren't well connected. It's a lot quicker to sell it to the local scavengers for a few hundred dollars and be done with it. They just strip it and sell off the parts making it nearly impossible to trace. It's small time and messy, but it gets the job done. My guess is whoever sold it got less than a thousand dollars."

Claire quickly forgot about the car and grabbed Mark's forearm, twisting him away from Amanda. Whispering, she spoke quickly. "You didn't happen to find…you know." She wiggled her eyebrows and tilted her head toward the smoldering vehicle.

Mark smiled wickedly and made no attempt to lower his voice. "Why Claire, whatever are you talking about?"

"Jerk!" Claire hissed under her breath. "You know damn well what I'm talking about. Did you find him or not?" she fumed.

Mark chuckled as Amanda stepped alongside he and Claire. "Oooh," he drew out the word. "You mean your little green buddy?"

Amanda gazed from the handsome prosecutor to her friend. Claire's neck and cheeks were beginning to turn a lovely shade of pink and she was practically oozing frustration and something else. The therapist looked on curiously, trying to figure out what had Claire rattled. She could tell it wasn't the car.

SHIT! You are so dead Mark! Claire leaned into Mark, trying to speak so that an obviously interested Amanda wouldn't hear. "Never mind, Mark," she ground through gritted teeth.

"Never mind?" Mark exclaimed. "I feared for my life until I issued an A.P.B. on you're friend." Mark smile broadened. "You did insist," he added.

"Mark," Claire growled.

The prosecutor couldn't miss the brunette's menacing tone. He swallowed convulsively. Uh…oh. She's really pissed. Oh well, if I'm gonna be in the doghouse with Claire I might as well make it pay. Man! She's beautiful when she's angry. He sighed over the lost cause.

Knowing Mark was in the mood to play, Claire tried to escape with as little embarrassment as possible. Turning away from him, she nearly collided with an avidly watching Amanda. "Let's go, Amanda. I'm done here. I know you're hungry."

"Aren't you forgetting something, Claire?" Mark asked evilly.

Claire closed her eyes as her childhood pal moved in for the kill. The tall blonde walked around in front the woman and held out a happy, green, and still very bendable, Gumby. "I don't think he sustained any life threatening injuries. But I was prepared to do CPR for your sake," he teased.

"Thanks a lot, Buddy. I won't forget this," Claire promised. Mark knew he was in deep trouble, but laughed anyway. Grabbing her ever faithful driving companion, Claire couldn't suppress the quick smile that flickered across her face. She carefully stuffed Gumby into her pocket only to look up to see Mark shaking with silent laughter and Amanda staring at her in a combination of wide-eyed shock and amusement. Turning her back on her friends, Claire called out as she grumped back to Amanda's car. "I'll be in the car!" Before she reached the Audi she heard both the blondes burst into laughter. Oh, great! Now they're a team.

"That was pretty mean," Amanda remarked as she looked up at the still laughing man. I can't help but like this guy.

"I know," Mark chuckled, as he wiped the tears from eyes. "But she deserved it. I've been waiting for years to get her that good." He looked down at the smiling face of the woman who had clearly captured his friend's heart. I can't help but like her. "Just ask her about the bra she accidentally left in the back seat of my truck when I was dating my ex-wife."

Pale eyebrows shot skyward. "You guys are dangerous when you're together aren't you?"

"She's my best friend," he offered in explanation.

Thinking about some of the stunts she and Jody had pulled over the years Amanda nodded. She understood completely. "It was nice meeting you, Mark." She held out a small hand.

"Same here, Amanda." Mark returned the handshake, surprised by its strength. "Take good care of my friend."

Impulsively, Amanda stood on tipped-toes and planted a kiss on the large man's cheek. "I will," she replied seriously, before turning and jogging back to the car.

Mark laid a palm on his cheek where he could still feel the light kiss. He watched the women until the car drove out of sight. They looked about as physically different as two women could. Even their personalities appeared to land on opposite sides of the spectrum. But in just few moments they'd spent together, he could tell each complemented the other perfectly. Looks like they've both have good taste, he mused. The big man's mind began to wonder as he walked to his own car. He let out a tortured groan. "God, Mark. Don't go there!" he laughed as unlocked his door.

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"No, I don't think you're a wacko." Amanda rolled her eyes. "It's normal for people to transfer human emotions to inanimate objects. Besides…" green eyes twinkled, "…I was taught to avoid the term 'wacko'."

"Great. Now you're shrinking my head," Claire complained as they strolled past another shiny new car.

Oops. She's sensitive about that. I'd better watch it. "No. I'm not." Amanda looked at Claire's bright green shirt and grinned. "Come on Gumby, I think I see a red one at the end of this row." Grabbing the taller woman's hand, Amanda began pulling her along toward the red SUV at the end of the row.

Gumby! "You're not really gonna call me that are you?" Claire whined.

Amanda stopped dead in her tracks, making a show of appraising her friends green shirt, her eyes obviously lingering over Claire's bulging pocket where Gumby's smiling head was poking out. Meeting Claire's eyes, her face went serious.

"Why yes, Claire. In my professional opinion, it's an absolute necessary for the sake of both our mental well-beings that I call you that." So much for not teasing. Amanda recaptured Claire's hand and turned her gaze upward. Rain clouds had moved in and were threatening to spill over and cut their shopping trip short. The sky had darkened with the weather and Amanda could tell Claire would never be able to shop for cars inside the building. The fawning salesman would prevent that.

At least I didn't wear my grateful dead T-shirt, Claire smirked, allowing Amanda's gentle tugging to pull her along. Mandy can call me damn near anything she likes…as long as she calls me.

The tall woman glanced around empty car lot as they walked, glad they'd lost their salesman early on. She'd originally intended to purchase another Explorer, until the smarmy salesman practically drooled all over Amanda. Claire felt a nearly blinding surge of jealously and developed a sudden taste for foreign cars.

"Hey, not bad." Claire stopped, then slowly stepped around the Nissan Pathfinder SE limited.

Amanda admired the vehicle's bright candy apple finish. "Well, you don't get much redder than this."

"True," Claire agreed, as she continued to appraise the car. "Let's test it out."

"Okay, do you want me to go get the salesman?" Amanda tilted her head toward the dealership building, as a strong gust of moist air tussled her hair.

"Nah. I wanna see how comfortable it is. Come on." Claire opened the back door and slid across the soft leather seat allowing Amanda to pile in next to her. The smaller woman shut the door and deeply inhaled the new car smell and the rich scent of leather. Claire scooted closer and the faint smell of sweet roses was added to the mix. "It's nice, Claire," Amanda exhaled with satisfaction.

"It is," Claire agreed, without ever tearing her gaze from her younger companion. Amanda blushed and Claire reached up and gently touched the warm cheek. The heavy clouds finally opened up and a gentle rain began falling, its pitter-patter amplified by the silence in the car.

Amanda found herself willingly drawn into deep azure eyes. She felt herself tumbling helplessly under their spell and smiled an open honest smile that lit up her face and crinkled the corners of her own eyes. Claire leaned in closer and Amanda felt her warm breath tickling her face. She was completely surrounded by the smell of leather and roses and Claire. It was intoxicating.

"You are so beautiful," a deep voice purred in her ear, but Amanda was so absorbed in her own body's reactions to Claire's closeness, she barely made out the words.

Amanda closed her eyes and swallowed, her breathing began to increase. "What?" she whispered, her mind whirling amidst the sensory barrage.

A sure hand easily swept aside her hair and soft lips lightly kissed the skin around her ear. "I said you're beautiful," the voice gently repeated, as a hot tongue snaked out and trailed its way from the back of her ear, along her pulse point to the base of her neck.

Amanda moaned loudly, unable to control her body's immediate reaction. Her stomach clinched and her hands convulsively clutched Claire's shirt. Jesus! What is she doing? The intensity of the rain increased. Its pounding rhythm matched Amanda's heartbeat, as smooth warm lips kissed their way back up the other side of her neck, stopping near her ear. She could hear Claire's own breathing become ragged, as white teeth gently tugged her earlobe and strong hands caressed her. The interior of the car had darkened slightly as the windows fogged over.

Suddenly, Claire pulled back and looked into green eyes dilated with desire. Sliding a hand around the small of Amanda's back, she forcefully pulled the smaller woman into a searing kiss. Thunder boomed loudly, swallowing the approving whispers of both women, as hot tongues clashed and their bodies surged forward. This kiss wasn't like the tentative, gently affectionate kiss the women shared in Amanda's den. This kiss was insistent. It was raw want and need and passion.

Claire shifted back into the seat and pulled Amanda onto her lap, causing the smaller woman to straddle her. Forgetting her surroundings completely, Amanda untucked a corner of her companion's shirt and slid her hands across a trembling soft skin on Claire's stomach. Claire sucked in a quick breath as she felt small hands run across her belly. With another swift tug, more of Claire's shirt was pulled free as the hands slid up and cupped firm bare breasts.

"Oh…God," Claire murmured in satisfaction, as she tore her lips away from Amanda's and began kissing along her jawbone and neck. Claire could taste the delicious saltiness of Amanda's skin and threaded her fingers through soft pale locks as Amanda threw her head back allowing Claire greater access to her throat.

Amanda continued to lightly caress Claire's breasts until she felt sharp teeth gently graze her pulse point. Her body jerked at the erotic touch and her fingers clamped down on already painfully erect nipples. Claire gasped, feeling each tug on her breast deep in her groin, flooding her with wetness.

I've got to have more, Amanda thought, as she roughly jerked up Claire's shirt and ducked her head down to taste soft skin. Lightening flashed as wet lips clamped onto a dark ridged nipple. "Mmm…," Amanda purred. She tastes as good as she looks. Her own nipples tightened in empathy. God, there is no way she could be enjoying this as much as I am.

The woman below her lips was panting and writhing. Amanda was surprised when her wrists were grabbed and she was pushed away from Claire's body. Her back was thrust against the cool leather of the front seat as wild blue eyes lifted to meet hers. Claire was beyond caring where she was or who might find them. Things had gotten out of hand and it didn't bother her one bit. She had to have this woman. Now!

Claire leaned forward in her seat, bringing her own mouth within inches of Amanda's lips. Not relinquishing the grip on the therapist's wrist, the women's eyes were locked. She felt no shame in expressing her own need when she saw matching desire mirrored in warm green eyes. "I've wanted you since moment I first saw you." Claire licked full moist lips and continued. "Mandy, I want you so badly right now I think I'll die if I don't have you. Please?" Claire's voice was raspy and low, rumbling deep into Amanda's soul. Her need for Amanda was so great she wasn't above begging. This fabulous woman was worth anything…everything. Lightening flashed and the electric spark that had been passing between the women for days burst into flame.

Immediately and without conscious thought, Amanda agreed to Claire's request. She'd barely nodded her assent when she was pulled back into to strong arms. I love this car, she thought, as Claire turned and pushed her down into the seat, melding her body to the smaller one beneath her. "Yeesss!" Amanda hissed, as warm hands grasped her buttocks, crushing their hips together.

Claire's hands stroked moist silky skin, and Amanda arched into the touch. A bright light appeared in the window that she assumed was more lightening. But curiously, the light didn't fade away. Through a haze of kisses and mummers she heard a faint rumbling that gradually got louder.

"Cl…Claire," she breathed, trying to focus her scattered thoughts. No response. "Claire." Amanda's voice was weak but insistent.

"Mmm....Hmm," came the faint reply as Claire swirled her tongue around the ridge of Amanda's navel, causing a loud moan to erupt from the younger woman.

"Mmmm…God…ah…I…I…I think someone is coming."

Claire tore her eyes away from Amanda for the first time since she'd entered the car. Looking up, she squinted as bright headlights streamed through the fog-covered windows, reflecting off the raindrops. "Shit!" she cursed under her breath. "It's that idiot salesman I told to leave us alone. He must have come looking for us when we didn't come back after the storm started."

Claire closed her eyes and marshaled her willpower. I could lock the doors and pretend we're not in here, her mind tempted. Sighing, she crawled back up Amanda who had a slightly shaking arm thrown over her eyes. "Mandy, I'm sorry. Things got out of hand. We'd better get up." Blue eyes conveyed apology. "I…uh… don't know what came over me. I…" A car door slammed shut.

Two soft fingers pressed against Claire's lips. "Shh. No reason to apologize. I know exactly what came over you." Amanda smiled wryly and sat up, smoothing out her shirt. "It was the same thing that came over me. It must be catchy," she added impishly.

Claire flashed her companion a brilliant smile and pulled away, flicking her bangs into place. Scooting over a couple of feet, she reached out and grabbed Amanda's hand.

A voice called out. "Hey, anyone here?" A dark shadow approached the SUV and lightly rapped on the glass of the driver's side window.

"Amanda we're going to finish this conversation later." It wasn't a question. A dark eyebrow arched as Claire looked around briefly. "In a more appropriate place."

A pale head nodded. "Yes. We are."

The front door opened and a sandy haired middle aged man peeked in, shaking the rain out of his eyes. "There you are." He looked at the smiling women who were sitting a respectable distance apart but were still holding hands. "Good way to get out the rain," he commented. "Done it myself a few times." The man spread his hands. "Wadda think? She's a real beauty. The SE model is…"

"Absolutely perfect," Claire finished as she looked at the younger woman. Amanda blushed and the salesman looked predictably puzzled. Leaning forward, Claire snatched a ballpoint pen from the salesman's breast pocket. Shifting up, she dug through her blue jean pocket until she pulled out an incredibly rumpled check. Scratching her name to the bottom, Claire handed it to the salesman. "I'll take it. It seems I've become very attached to her."

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CONNECTIONS

Chapter 5b
Comments to Advocate advocate99@usa.net & Rsawest rsawest@usa.net
For Disclaimers see Chapter 1a

*******************************

Mark ran his hand along the gleaming hood of Claire's new car with an approving whistle.

"Claire, this is excellent. This is a total babe mobile if I ever saw one," he said as he walked around the car.

"Thanks Marko, just what I need," snorted Claire as she looked on with pride at her new toy. Her gaze wandered to the two children playing on her front lawn. The boys were chasing each other, playing their version of Batman and yelling enthusiastically.

Mark continued his inspection and opened the back door and peered inside. "There’s a lot of room back here and the leather is really nice. Hey, they didn't detail this car very well. There are palm and fingerprints against the window here. Didn't you have the dealer clean and detail it before you took it home?"

Claire snorted again and actually blushed. "Yeah, it’s roomy back there. Ah, I took it home that same day, I couldn't wait," she replied.

Mark closed the door and looked at Claire with a smile before he turned and addressed his two sons.

"Keith, don't pull on Bobby's shirt. It’s brand new. Come on," he motioned toward the car, "we're gonna go out to eat and ride in Aunt Claire's new car."

Claire laughed at her friends attempt to control his children. "Mark, you get the car seat for Bobby and I'll get Keith set up." After a few minutes of chasing down children and getting them tucked in the car, the buzzing group drove off toward the city.

"I haven't heard anything from my buddies at Hennepin County about Aaron. Looks very professional though," Mark remarked as he looked over the edge of the bridge and into the Mississippi River.

"Well, I told you what I found so far, but I didn't tell you about Origami, did I?" Claire moved into the right lane.

"What about Origami?" Mark turned and glared. "Bobby, don't hit your brother!"

"The night before Aaron bought it, we met at Origami. He told me that he and his business associates like to meet there. He didn't seem particularly shy about it." Claire shifted in her seat. Even the remembrance of hurt green eyes made her sick. "And then… you know… I ran into Jody and everything went downhill from there."

"His ‘business’ associates are how he ended up in the river, Claire. Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?" Mark's voice held an angry edge. "What else did you find out?"

"I had some suspicions about the Cornerstone Clinic, but it turns out that they just have a contract with the corrections department. It was just a coincidence."

"Are you sure those pretty green eyes haven't made up your mind for you?"

Claire looked at him briefly, her own piercing eyes peeking over the edge of her Ray-Bans in a familiar gesture.

"I know, I'm really pushing it, aren't I," He laughed. "You said that Amanda's sister came over?"

Claire sighed silently and recounted Monica and Chucky’s visit, finishing as she pulled up in front of the Grand Shanghai. Luckily, they found a parking space only a few doors down from the popular Chinese restaurant.

"Well, it sounds like you two have become closer, and that's good as far as I'm concerned. I haven't seen that sparkle in your baby blues in a long time, buddy."

"You’re nothing but big blond mushball, Marko," Claire said as she leaned over and kissed his cheek, "despite your macho act."

Mark smiled and touched his cheek where she kissed him. Although he had accepted the non-romantic nature of their relationship, he occasionally felt the twinge of unrequited feelings. Be mature about this, she’s your best friend and that's all she’ll ever be for you. Give it a rest.

"So she doesn't know where Monica is now?" Mark said, snapping back into reality.

"No, and she's really worried, especially given her bitch sister’s current desire to get Missy back."

Claire got out of the car and went to unhook Keith while Mark freed Bobby.

"Now I don't want you to order a combination plate, this ain't a chop suey house, Mark."

"Ah, come on, we have this argument every time. You are such a snob about Chinese food."

"Hey, I didn't spend three years in Chicago just going to law school, I sampled a lot of cuisine too!" Claire patted her belly. "Just feel lucky there isn't a Polish restaurant around here or I'd be eating tripe and grossing you out, you Nordic wimp," Claire teased as they walked towards the restaurant.

"Well, Claire Alexandra Easton, WASP if I ever saw one, you’re not exactly soul sister number one, if you know what I mean," Mark chided back.

"At least I didn't grow up on hotdish and plain meatloaf because the tomato sauce was just too spicy for my delicate stomach."

"Hey, I'm a child of the Midwest…"

"That you are, and so am I, but you gotta expand those taste buds. I know you go home every night and cook mac and cheese for these kids." Claire motioned to the two fair-haired children. "Your kids need to know that food comes in colors other than yellow and white."

"For someone who can’t cook macaroni and cheese for themselves, you’re sure uppity."

Claire raised a dark eyebrow as she opened the restaurant door. "Cooking and eating are two different things."

*******************************

Zane sat on the cool wooden park bench nervously scratching the stubble on his cheeks. Glancing at his watch he wondered if he’d be late for his 8:00 a.m. sales presentation. An early morning phone call had roused him out of bed and beckoned him to a downtown park whose clientele was mostly bums and local gang members. Loosening his tie, his eyes scanned the park. Not only did he feel out of place in his business suit and expensive shoes, he felt a little frightened. Why would she want to meet here?

"Hey, Baby," a girlish voice called out.

Zane sprang to his feet and turned to see a smiling blonde standing behind the park bench. She was wearing faded Levi’s and black T-shirt that contrasted sharply against her pale, sallow skin.

"You look like shit," the salesman offered coldly.

"I missed you too."

"What do you want?"

The blonde rolled her eyes and circled around the bench, perching on its corner. "Cut the crap Zane. I’m sure you can tell what I want just by looking at me."

Zane eyed the woman for a moment before joining her on the bench. His hand unconsciously moved to his chin where he began to scratch. "I’m not your pimp, Monica."

"Since when," she snorted.

"Since you look like a strung out two-dollar whore," Zane replied viciously. "What the fuck have you done to yourself?"

Tired, hazel eyes bored into his. He shifted nervously under their weight. "Nothing you didn’t help me with, old friend." Monica squinted as she looked out to the street beyond. "Where’s Junior?"

"Where do you think he is? Shit, did you think he would actually show up at a place like this?" Zane spread his arms indicating their decrepit surroundings, glad to have those haunting eyes focused elsewhere.

Monica sighed. "It doesn’t matter. I need money." Her eyes fixed on Zane again. "And I don’t care who I get it from or what I have to do to get it."

Zane brow creased. He hadn’t expected her to be so blatant. Their phone conversation had been brief and terse. "Meet me at the park on Franklin and 10th in an hour," was all she’d said. It was a voice out of his nightmares. He knew it well.

"Don’t look so shocked, Zane. Or have you conveniently forgotten some of our," a thin hand reached up and tangled itself into Zane’s hair, "previous personal arrangements."

Zane jerked back in revulsion. "Don’t touch me," he hissed. Sliding down the bench and away from Monica, he ran a shaky hand through his hair as if to wipe away the blonde’s touch.

Monica laughed at the gesture. "Don’t worry. I don’t have anything catchy…that I know about." She smiled cruelly.

Zane’s stomach twisted, remembering the variety of ‘business transactions’ he and Monica had engaged in. Sex for drugs. It was a simple enough equation. But even then, he’d had to indulge in his product before he could get up the nerve to follow through… At least the first time, anyway. After that, things seemed to get so much easier.

He’d wanted her since they’d met in college, before the needles and the money and the irrevocable decisions. And so when the opportunity presented itself, he took it. At least that was before she looked like the walking dead, his mind added. He closed his eyes. Pretty co-ed gone junky…successful football player turned pusher. NO! I’m more than that.

Looking at Monica reminded him of his meager beginnings in the Chow organization and of people that didn’t exist anymore. He didn’t like it. He’d moved onward and upward, even if she hadn’t. His eyes lingered over the track marks running nearly the length of Monica’s arms, then moved to the soft swell of breasts that were still full, despite her painful thinness. He closed his eyes again and with a shiver of disgust, pushed away the beginning of strains of desire. Things had always been exceptionally good between them, even when they were bad.

"Earth to Zane…Zane?" Monica loudly snapped her fingers in front of his eyes.

His hand darted out and tightly gripped hers. "What are you doing back here? I didn’t think I’d ever see you again." At least I was hoping that would be the case.

"That’s none of your business. Are you going to help me or do I skip over you and go directly to Junior?" she challenged, apparently tired of waiting for Zane to respond.

"That won’t be necessary," he snarled. "I’ll talk to Junior this morning." Recovering some of his composure, he reached under the park bench and grabbed a paper sack. Standing, he thrust the bag into Monica’s hands. A smile lit up red rimmed eyes as she traced the familiar outline of a syringe through the paper sack. Zane reached into his pocket and withdrew a long leather wallet. He tossed out couple of one hundred-dollar bills, which Monica eagerly grabbed. "Don’t this piss away Monica. Get something to eat and some decent clothes." He sniffed in her direction. "And a bath." Turning, he stuffed his wallet back into his jacket. "I’ll be back to pick you up at 7:00 o’clock tonight. Don’t be late." His hand moved to his face. I hope my travel razor is charged.

*******************************

Monica gazed lifelessly at the elevator doors as they closed. Leaning back against the railing she tried to marshal her thoughts. As the floors silently slipped by, she smoothed her dress. How she looked was important, and she’d wished she had a few more days to pull herself together. Zane’s gift had helped, but not nearly enough. "Just enough to take the edge off," he yelled as he practically ran to his car. Cheap prick! She seethed.

Fiddling with her dress again, she smiled as she remembered the sales woman at Sears who had picked it out. She’d marched into the store and walked over the small section containing eveningwear.

DING. The elevator obediently chimed as its doors opened to the 20th floor. Quickly leaving the elevator, Monica looked in each direction down the long hallway and cursed Zane for dropping her off outside the building. Chickenshit! You never could handle Junior. She ran a hand through short clean locks. Okayokayokayokay. Get in. Get out. Do what I have to do, she chanted. With great effort, she pushed down the ever-present craving that was beginning to call to her... loudly.

Monica had reluctantly parted with enough of the money Zane had given her to get a motel room, dress, shoes, and some toiletries. She idly ran her tongue over clean teeth and admitted to herself that she at least, did feel better. Somehow, lately, she’d always manage to misplace little things like a toothbrush or comb or her husband.

She paused outside of Junior’s door. I wonder what did happen to J.J.? She hadn’t seen him since they’d pawned off Claire’s car. He’s probably still passed out in that alley. What sort of fool only gets $500.00 for a car like that? What was I thinking when I married him? Monica tried to force her muddled mind to remember the blessed event, but couldn’t. Shrugging, she quickly forgot about her husband and resolved herself to the fact that she’d have to earn her way back into Junior’s favor. Their last parting had been bitter. She knocked on the door, her body already tingling with anticipation. When Junior is happy he’s very generous, she nearly giggled.

The door swung open and Monica let herself in. The large apartment was a vision of black and white and was mostly dark except for the dim lighting of a single lamp and the evening sun streaming through wide bay windows. Black and white floor tiles where overlaid with black and white area rugs. A shiny black piano stood regally in the corner atop a soft white fur rug. She looked closer. The rug was a polar bear with the head still attached. Yuck! Her eyes took in the entire room. You could loose all 101 fucking Dalmatians in this place. A large black leather couch sat between two strange pieces of furniture that Monica assumed were chairs. The stark room was cold and the blonde shivered, wrapping her bare arms around herself. Apparently, Sears didn’t have any long sleeves dresses in size ‘skinny and fucked up’ this spring.

"Hello, Monica. How nice of you to come for a visit," the deep familiar voice burred.

Monica turned to see Junior leaning against the closed door, cigarette in hand. His white linen trousers and black silk shirt looked out of place with his almost boyish good looks, but fit in perfectly with the décor of the room. Visit? You know exactly why I’m here, Junior. Why do I always come? A wafting cloud of smoke followed Junior as he pushed off the door and stepped closer to the blonde.

"You look," the tall man glanced down, surveying her slender form as his lips pursing slightly, "adequate."

Thank God for dim lighting, Monica silently praised, as she breathed a sigh of relief. "Hello Junior. I’ve missed you." She closed the remaining distance between them and gently pulled the cigarette from his lips. Taking a deep drag, she murmured appreciatively as she exhaled. Removing the cigarette from her own mouth, she smoothly traced Junior’s lip with the tip of a thin finger before replacing it with the cigarette.

Junior felt himself growing hard as the small finger lingered at his lips then drifted down to his chest where it remained. The cool silk of his shirt contrasted sharply with the heat of his skin. Ahh…Monica. You haven’t forgotten how to play the game, have you? In a whirlwind of motion Junior viciously backhanded the blonde, sending her sprawling across the cold tiles.

In an instant, Monica’s world went black and for a few seconds the only sensation she experienced was a loud ringing in her ears. Raising a shaking hand to her mouth, she couldn’t suppress the small smile that crept its way across her lips. With the back of her hand, she wiped away a warm trickle of blood. That’s it, Junior, her mind crooned. Now we’re getting someplace. That’s the beautiful monster I remember.

After a final deep drag from the cigarette, Junior silently walked over the to the low ivory coffee table and snuffed it out in a thin dark ashtray. He straightened to his full height and spoke with his back to his guest. "Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to take things that aren’t yours, Monica?" An eyebrow raised unseen by Monica. "At least until they’ve been offered to you."

As he stood admiring his penthouse view, he felt small hands began to caress his back. "Of course, Junior. How could I forget?" Purred a voice that was part seductive part sarcastic. Neither element was lost on the man.

"It’s been a long time." He leaned back into the touch.

"A bit more than two years," came the softly spoken response.

"And what have you been doing all this time? I would have known if you’d stayed in town." Broad shoulders loosened slightly as small strong hands began to knead.

"I’ve been around." Monica shook her head slightly as the ringing her in hears finally disappeared. "I guess…I couldn’t stay away."

Junior exhaled loudly and dropped his head as the massage worked its way up to his hairline. Monica heard a low chuckle. "No, I guess you couldn’t."

Stepping away from the roving hands, Junior moved closer to the bay window and looked out at the city painted in red sunlight. "Do I need to ask what you’re here for?" His voice had lost its informal tone and was all business.

Monica stepped along side him, her head only level with his shoulder. Two sets of hazel green eyes were locked forward. She willed her body not to shake. How long had it been since Zane’s little present? Was that only this morning?

Monica deliberately didn’t answer Junior’s question. "It looks like business is going well. Weren’t you only on the 8th floor last time I was here?"

The man slowly nodded. His facial expression remained neutral but the slight quiver in his voice betrayed his growing rage. "If I’m not mistaken, I asked you a question, little girl."

Monica’s eyes drifted toward the shiny piano in the corner. "Do you actually play that thing? Or do you just use it to hold down the bear so it won’t get up one day and walk away?"

Junior turned to face her, his eyes raging. She saw the slap coming long before it hit her, but did nothing to avoid it. Its force was enough to send her reeling against the glass of the bay window. Her knees buckled, but before she could slide down, a meaty hand gripped her throat and pushed her back up against the cold unyielding surface. Monica was on her tipped toes but Junior continued to increase his grip. She felt herself being lifted off her feet.

"You never did know when to shut up. Did you, whore?" he hissed as he brought his face within inches of hers. His tongue snaked out and tasted the blood smeared across her cheek.

For a split second the woman wished the glass behind her would give way, releasing her from the nightmares and misery. But then, she reminded herself, you wouldn’t feel the rush that’s coming.... just a little while longer....it’ll all be worth it… remember?

Monica gasped as she struggled for air. Tiny black dots began to invade her peripheral vision. She knew she was only seconds from passing out. Reaching up, she pushed her hand between the buttons of Junior’s silk shirt, snapping off two buttons the process. Her fingers tangled themselves in short curly hair and she felt the iron grip on her throat began to release as she was slowly lowered to the ground.

"Bitch!" Junior yelled as slapped her once again, sending a spray of blood and saliva across the hard tiles. This time, however, although she stumbled sideways a few steps, she remained on her feet. "This shirt’s worth more than you are."

Straightening, Monica stepped forward, back-lit by the evening sun. The wet black liquid on her face turned crimson as she passed out of the shadows and into a beam of violet golden rays. Junior felt his pulse increase at the sight. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy you, Monica. That’s it. The woman moved forward seductively. Feed me.

Monica dragged a finger across her bloody lips and trailed their contents along Junior’s bare chest and into his waiting mouth. The coppery tang of her blood intensified his need and fueled his anger. He growled and brought his hands up, tightly gripping her hair. Pushing her body away from his, he tightened his grip again, closing his eyes as she cried out in pain. He was now throbbing as his body remembered the delicious thrill of pain....blood…submission…and unadulterated power. He groaned with satisfaction as tears coursed down the small blonde’s cheeks and she began to violently thrash against his grasp. "Yes!" he praised, as the woman redoubled her efforts.

With a savage jerk Monica was sent crashing to her knees. She screamed as twin bolts of pain shot through her legs and into her lower back. Junior moaned again, twisting his fingers deeper into short honey hair. Suddenly, his eyes lifted off the kneeling form. They were calm now, devoid of any emotion, and they scanned the horizon once again. Roughly, he pulled her mouth to his swollen groin and Monica performed the rest of her task by rote.

As she unzipped his trousers, she was surprised to feel little of the revulsion she’d remembered from her similar encounters with Junior. The large hands that had been so brutal seconds before began stroking her hair with a disconcerting gentleness. She didn’t have to look. She knew his eyes would be focused on the buildings beyond and his face would be eerily blank. There are some things that time just doesn't seem to change.

She flinched as he thrust into her, making her gag, but she didn’t stop. Her mind wandered from Junior to Zane. Both men had called her a whore today. She supposed she was a whore. But in truth, she considered them her whores as well. They willingly accepted what she offered and her efforts were always well rewarded. Aren’t we all just using each other?

These men were so different, although, each man was handsome, tall and fair. Her mind derailed as she was assaulted with a vision of Missy and innocent green eyes. But she stopped there, as she always did, not wanting to consider the little girl’s likely lineage.

A firm hand redirected her mouth and brought her crashing back to the grim present. She cursed herself for not being able to completely tune out her surroundings and actions, as she had always been able to in the past. Then, she would simply crawl into the safe deep dark recesses of her mind and wait for the reward that would accompany her actions. But now, even the deepest corners of her soul were lit with ugliness. They were haunted. There was no safe place to hide. She’d seen to that herself, crossing every single barrier she’d weakly clung to, going farther than she thought she dared, until now…now she simply floated in a state of constant ache, where peace didn’t exist.

Junior finished. He turned away from her and zipped his pants. No words would pass between them. She knew that. Even their eyes wouldn’t meet for long moments. His coldness covered her like a familiar blanket. So different from Zane, she mused. Although Junior and his younger associate were physically similar, something on the inside of each man was vitally different.

After an evening with Zane, the man would cry, pathetically begging her forgiveness, until he would finally compose himself enough to toss her a small brown paper sack filled with money or drugs. Their eyes always seemed to meet for a long, inexplicably painful second, and then he would silently leave the room.

Junior, however, liked to watch her enjoy her spoils. He shared in her tragedy and triumph. Tonight was no exception. After leaving her on her knees, he returned with a small glass box in one hand and a white washcloth in the other. Tossing Monica the washcloth, he sat back heavily in the cool leather couch.

Wiping the blood from her cheeks, mouth and nose, Monica couldn’t contain her excitement as she crawled to the treasure that awaited her. Finally, daring to look Junior directly in the eye, she received the nod she was waiting for and eagerly dove into the box. "Thank you, Evan," she mumbled.

Her skin was slick with a thin layer of sweat and her heart pounded with anticipation. Rummaging through its contents, she laughed heartily and latched onto a small syringe. She picked up a rubber-constricting band but then dropped it in favor of drawing the clear liquid contained in a small glass vile. Her hands were shaking. Taking a deep breath, she savored these last few seconds of anticipation as though they were a drug themselves. Junior smiled, then laughed cruelly. What she had tried to hide only moments before, she now fully embraced.

When she finished drawing out the liquid, Junior leaned forward and offered her the rubber band once again. Shaking it off, she unceremoniously pulled down the front of her dress and injected the liquid directly into a large blue vein trailing from her throat to her chest. Junior’s eyes widened as he noticed for the first time the scars that peppered her arms… he looked again…and her chest.

Withdrawing the needle, Monica tossed it on the ivory table and leaned back against the sofa, already feeling an icy fire flowing through her. She exhaled softly as her arms went limp and a look of pure satisfaction twisted her face. She glanced up to see Junior staring at her. Oops. I forgot he was still here.

He lifted his eyebrows in question.

"Faster that way…better," she purred, as her eyes rolled back and her mind lost all focus. The shackles of pain that had gripped her so tightly simply floated away.

"You’d put it straight into you’re heart if you could, wouldn’t you?" Stupid bitch. Junior leaned back and lit another cigarette. Resting his head on the soft cushion, he remained silent for a long moment. "That is, if junky whores even have hearts," he finally added.

Monica didn’t answer. She didn’t even hear him.

 *******************************
 

Chapter 6

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