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| [Sunday, October 7, 2007 at 2:31 pm] |
| Subject: Scenes From A Relationship |
There was whispering around different tables, but Piper was polite enough to just smile if someone was looking at her. Ever since she started on the show people had noticed her more. To start with she wasn't sure how to take the publicity, but she found an easy balance soon enough. The waitress came over, placed her caramel frappe in front of her and walked off to take a new customers order.
Martha was late again. It seemed to be a running ritual for the woman. They'd set up a time, a place, and she'd take an extra two or plus hours to get there. Like always, Piper waited. Her frappe was lifted up just enough for her to capture the straw between her lips. The cold liquid being sucked in and swallowed before it was set back down again.
In the beginning she would call, but waking her up always ended in an argument. Piper learned quickly not to disturb someone with a hangover. It was never a pretty thing, and never pleasant. Her slender fingers fiddled with her watch, and she shifted in her seat, trying to look casual. The on-lookers eventually paid more attention to their food.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." As if practicing saying it now would make it more believeable in five minutes. Martha parked the car in the lot next to the coffee shop, then fumbled the asprin bottle out of her pocket to swallow three more white tablets with some water. She was still wearing her sunglasses, and she leaned against the headrest to close her eyes for a minute before moving again. Maybe if she died now she wouldn't have to face Piper and the argument that was certain to occuur.
No such luck, though, and so she dragged herself out of the vehicle and slogged through the doors to see her girlfriend sitting alone and drinking something caffeinated. She paused, raked both hands through her hair, then chickened out and ducked into the ladies' room to splash some water on her face. Just a couple of minutes for a respite, that was all she wanted.
As the line of people moved forward to place their orders, Marissa Stenbeck smiled politely and tried to look just like everyone else before asking for a large cup of coffee with an extra shot of espresso. The newest addition to the cast of Birthright: The Series, she wasn't used to being recognized in public yet. Her career, such as it was, had consisted largely of bit psrts and non-speaking roles before this, but when she'd read for the part of no-nonsense cop Michaela Starnes, the casting director had been so impressed he'd asked her to come in for a second audition. The ink on her contract, elevating her from recurring to regular status, wasn't quite dry yet, and she was still in a bit of a daze over it all.
Cup in hand, she was making her way across the room when she spotted Piper Swarms sitting alone. They'd spoken off and on since filming had started, and Marissa felt almost comfortable enough to ask to join her without making a total fool of herself. "Hi," she said, raising her free hand in a wave before indicating the empty chair across from the brunette. "Is this seat taken?"
Piper was giving up hope. Another glance at her watch, slender fingers playing over the metal frame before she sipped at her caramel frappe again. It was half gone. She had nursed it as best she could. The actress' green eyes looked up just in time to catch one of the newest, albeit older, but hot new star to hit Birthright: The Series wave over to her.
Marissa was making her way over and Piper found herself unconsciously sitting up straighter after being caught slumping in her chair. There was a smile given and Piper shook her head. It should be taken. "No, it's free. Good to know you're just another caffeine fiend like me." Piper's voice was like her character, Purity, it had a low smoky tone to it but unlike the witch that she played on screen, Piper was much more quiet, almost mousy but with an innocent intensity to her tone.
The brunette found herself standing up out of courtesy to sit back down when Marissa did. Her long hands clasped her cold drink and she dipped her head slightly before looking out the window. Where was Martha? Well, at least she had company now. It saved the crowds at the tables thinking she was being stood up by someone. "I heard there going to be meeting us up in the script. Are you excited? I was glad when I heard they were making you permanent, we needed someone fresh with a different take on things. Michaela seems like the type of woman for the job."
"Yeah, actually, I am. I'm looking forward to getting to know my character and other people on the set a little better." Marissa made herself comfortable before taking a sip of her coffee, then added, "It's pretty easy to get in a rut when you're playing someone in law enforcement, I think, but I'm trying to get a little more room to work, see what she's like outside of the job."
The other woman looked a little distracted, and she continued, "There does seem to be some really good stuff coming up as far as scripts go. I'm afraid I'm not used to television work yet. Is it difficult dealing with a full-time filming schedule?"
Girlfriend troubles? She'd heard something about a relationship, because gossip was impossible to avoid in a close-knit environment, but she had never asked outright. Some business she just didn't want to poke around in.
Piper gave a soft grin, her teeth had been worrying the straw and now it resembled a flat piece of plastic at the top. How she managed to get liquid out of it was a wonder to anyone watching. "You get used to it, until its weird living without a camera in your face." Piper wiggled her eyebrows teasingly, before finally relaxing and giving a soft shrug. "It isn't that bad, but it sure beats flipping burgers. It's kinda like getting paid to be a kid."
Acting was such a head rush. You got to be anybody at any given time. How many people could say they had that opportunity? It was amazing to Piper. This time it was her lip being chewed, but she stopped that almost as soon as she started. Well, if Martha was going to stand her up she was going to enjoy her day. Why shouldn't she?
"So, be honest, who were you most nervous to meet and who was the least expected person you thought you'd like on set?" Piper leaned forward as if she was asking a secret, but her smile was teasing and her green eyes sparkled.
"Oh, I couldn't answer that yet," Marissa replied with an answering smile. "There's a lot of talent on-set, and I'm just getting started. It'd be like playing favorites."
In the bathroom, Martha was starting to feel something like human again. The asprin was starting to take hold, and she cupped some water in her palm to rinse her mouth out before swallowing another mouthful. Good. Now she could go out and face the girlfriend, maybe even have some coffee, provided that she could trust her stomach. Hopefully it wouldn't be too bad.
She got in line, sunglasses still on, and ordered a small coffee without so much as making eye contact with anyone, even through the dark lenses. But when she was on her way to the table she saw Piper already sitting with someone. A blonde someone. What was her name again? One of the new people in the cast, Melissa...Something. The hell?
Like every significant other who had ever had a guilty conscience, Martha made a beeline for the table. "Sorry I'm late," she announced. "I see you've already got some company." Turning to the older woman, she said a perfunctory, "Hi. Sorry, I don't believe we've met yet."
Piper stood up sharply, her face colouring as if she had just been caught with her hand on Marissa's knee instead of on her coffee cup. "H-hi, it's alright, I wasn't waiting long." Lie. "I got held up in traffic." Lies, all lies. Little white ones so Martha didn't feel bad. Little tiny white lies like snow flakes so there were no arguments and only hand holding instead.
Clearing her throat, Piper sat back down again, her eyes on Martha. "This is Marissa; she saw me here and wanted to say hi. I was telling her it takes a little time to get used to the camera being on you to start with but that it's worth it." Her hand reached out to touch Martha's but she stopped herself and grabbed her coffee instead.
The straw found itself being chewed at nervously. The brunette didn't want to upset her girlfriend by attempting 'public affection; when she may not want it. Piper fell silent after that, although her foot began to tap under the table. She willed herself to stay calm, surely nothing would happen in the coffee shop. She liked this place.
Domestic dispute. Wonderful. Marissa could have slapped herself. And the redhead looked hungover too, as if she'd been up way too late the night before. She looked down into the contents of her cup, looking for something pleasant and non-confrontational to say.
"Sorry I'm late," Martha said again, hooking a separate chair with her foot and sitting in it as if the seat had pins on it. "I was out with....some people last night. Calvin was there." And thank God she'd turned down Cal's offer to snort some coke, because she'd still have been bouncing off the walls if she'd agreed. She'd take her small favors where she could get them.
"So you're fitting in, then?" she asked the other woman, who stopped studying her coffee and made eye contact long enough to nod. Had she walked in on something? Okay, so she was late, but not by that much. There was no reason for the vultures to be circling already.
Especially a vulture that old.
"Have you eaten?" she asked Piper, turning towards the brunette with a falsely bright smile. "I think I could just about go for a sandwich now. Maybe your new friend can have lunch with us."
There was a tense moment, when everyone knew that there was a storm approaching and yet they all sat and faked their way through it. Piper looked up to Marissa, her eyes very apologetic as her teeth sunk into her lower lip again. "That sounds..." Like a really bad plan. You're mad at me for talking to her, aren't you? "Great, that little place a few blocks away does good sandwiches. What's it called again, Bites and Pieces?"
The truth was she didn't care; she just wanted to escape the oncoming anger that was sure to be simmering in her girlfriend. The brunette would be willing to do almost anything, and the last thing she wanted to do was drag an innocent woman into it. Especially when they'd be working together fairly soon.
"Marissa, do you want to join us?" The offer was quiet, and Purity couldn't look at the blonde. She felt embarrassed. What had she done? She should have said the seat was taken. Damn it, why didn't she think?
I'd rather chew off my own arm, thanks, the older woman thought, and she locked eyes with Martha across the table. Sizing her up, the way she herself was being sized up. She wanted to make an excuse, to say she had an appointment to keep, but that would just make her look guilty. Guilty of what? They'd just been talking.
"No, seriously, it's fine." Martha had a sick feeling in her stomach, one that had nothing to do with the slowly receding hangover. She shouldn't have almost stood Piper up. Shouldn't have been out with Goddamn Calvin until all hours. What did Cal understand about her domestic issues when he avoided relationships like the plague? Did she deserve this?
But whatever she deserved, she didn't like the looks of this one. How much of a coincidence could it be? It was a big coffee shop, there were plenty of other empty chairs. If she was being poached on by some old woman, she wanted to be at least aware of it.
After a reasonably painful silence, the blonde said, "Sure, why not? I could use something to eat." And a lobotomy for agreeing to this. "I've been there a couple of times, they have good pumpernickel bread."
Piper was fantasising about running out of the shop but instead she stood up, her hand still clutching her frappe, and smiled a tight, albeit friendly, smile. "Marvellous, we should get going now then, wouldn't want anyone's stomachs trying to chew themselves inside out." When she stood up, her hand went into her back pocket and she pulled out a thin pair of black framed glasses.
Walking to the door, she held it open for both women before leaving the cafe' herself. It was only once she was outside that she unfolded the glasses and pushed them onto her nose. Her dark hair covered the legs and she looked sophisticated and a little mousy. "Personally I like the Italian herb and cheese, but since its October I might favour the pumpkin kind."
Alright, so they were bullshiting about bread, at least they weren't causing a scene. The looks that Martha was giving Marissa had certainly not gone unnoticed by Piper. It was blatantly obvious that the red-head thought the blonde was moving in on something she considered 'hers'. "So...this dyslexic girl walked into a bra..." Oh God, she wanted to gag herself.
Things stayed civil, if not peaceful, as the three of them made the short walk to the next stop, but it was like a pantomime of impending disaster. Martha opened the door to allow the others to pass in front of her, and she made a point of taking Piper's free hand with her own unoccupied one after they sat down at a table. The gesture said 'Mine!' without words, and she thought she felt the brunette flinch. Okay, so she was an asshole.
She's over-compensating, Marissa thought, and she looked at their linked hands for a moment before picking up a plastic-coated menu. Maybe if no one breathed wrong, catastrophe wouldn't strike. It was a slim hope, but even a slim hope was better than no hope at all.
She ordered the pumpernickel and roast beef, Martha ordered ham and cheese on rye bread, and then they both looked at Piper in an expectant fashion. Neither of them wanted to be here, but here they were, so they might as well eat. Martha moved her thumb across her girlfriend's knuckles deliberately. "What did you want for lunch, honey?" Ugh.
When her hand was caught up, Piper didn't think anything of it until Martha called her honey. Oh... It was a territory thing. Her face flushed a soft shade of pink, but wither it was from embarrassment or the sudden tingle that ran through her when Martha caressed her knuckles, no-one would know. There was a little cough given, she didn't need to be getting all aroused in public.
Her frappe was set down, so that she could use her finger to push her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. "Bavarian ham on Italian herb and cheese. Please." Once her order was given she found herself watching Martha's thumb on her knuckles, her own thumb working softly over the woman's fingers underneath her own to try and soothe her.
Looking over, she offered a smile to Marissa. "So, did you ever follow the show before you auditioned?†It was something easy, something light. There was no way this could back fire. It was a neutral subject designed for smooth sailing. Wasn't it?
"Yeah, I did. I'd been doing commrcial work before, but I usually tried to catch every live airing." Marissa also still had her coffee with her, and she sipped at it before continuing. "I've alwasy been really impressed with the way the shows flows from one thing to another. It must be really exciting to work on a project like that."
Martha made herself relax a little, but she didn't let go of Piper's hand. Just a little friendly chitchat, that was all it was. Nothing had to explode. "So you're a fan?" she asked, her tone a little easier. "Well, its nice to hear you'd actually heard of the show befoe you came on board."
"Well, it's kind of hard to avoid. I mean, the show's a hit." It was said without hesitation, and the redhead managed a more or less genuine smile. Not that she was exactly thrilled to find the other woman possibly hitting on her girlfriend, but she wasn't going to declare war in the next thirty seconds or anything. Using her free hand, she picked up her coffee again.
The sandwiches arrived in the next few minutes, and after the first couple of bites another lull fell over the table. What was safe enough to talk about, safe enough to keep the peace?
Piper found it a little difficult to pick up her sandwich one handed, but she managed it and took out a large bite. For such a skinny frame, she could put away a lot of food. She chewed as silently as she could, her glasses sliding down her nose and her hair falling across her forehead. There was almost a sense of geeky teenage boy about her. The only real difference was she was female and had good skin, well, now that she was older.
"Really?" She managed between mouthfuls. "Which characters did you love watching interact?" Another bite was gone, and Piper suddenly felt self conscious. Half of her sandwich was already devoured. She set it down and sipped at her coffee, the straw still managing to work, a miracle all in itself.
Her taken hand continued to clutch Martha's. Every now and then she squeezed it softly, as if telling her girlfriend she was still there. "It is exciting, it's great to see everyone's characters interact and entwine in so many different plots all going on at once. When the scripts come out I hide out in my trailer and read them like a kid with a comic book."
And then it all went to hell, because the question caught Marissa off-guard, and she chased a bite of sandwich down with rapidly cooling coffee before answering, ""My favorite couple was always Purity and Victoria. I thought it was a really sweet relationship. Kind of unfair that she ended up getting dumped for Mallory."
Martha coughed so loudly that one of the waitresses started over, thinking she was havign a choking fit, but the redhead waved her away impatiently. Releasing Piper's hand at last, she grabbed a couple of napkins out of the holder in the center of the table and used them to wipe her mouth, then swiped at her shirt, which now had coffee on it. You did not just say that...!
"Yeah, well, y'know," she said at last, her voice a little raspy. "Sometimes the script calls for things and you just have to go through with it. Fair kind of doesn't enter into it. It's why we're professionals." Zing! Another shot fired, this one not so accidental.(more)
That was enough to get the blonde's back up in turn, and she lifted one eyebrow in response. Like all of a sudden she was chopped liver, right? Hungover little wench. "I studied drama at the University of Chicago," she informed the younger woman. "And I've had a fairly good run of luck with getting works. I know how to be professional."
"How nice for you," Martha said with just a touch of a smirk. And it felt better to be able to snark at her, even if they weren't talking about the real subject of your argument. But as long as she wasn't trying to make goo-goo eyes at Piper, that was fine too.
Another bite was taken, and Piper was in mid chew when Marissa answered honestly. The brunette swallowed automatically and got the half chewed mouthful of sandwich lodged in her throat. Trying desperately not to draw attention, while turning a pale shade of purple, she picked up her coffee and gulped at it. Thankfully it forced the food down and she took in a deep lungful of air that sounded too much like a gasp.
Oh Christ, the shit was hitting the fan at full speed. "Personally I liked the pairing too, it was sad when it ended but it was fun and definitely interesting to work with a darker Purity." Try and get it back to neutral. That was the main thought running through her head, her hunger was quickly forgotten. Especially when her hand was dropped. For a brief moment she thought Martha was going to slap Marissa.
"Even I struggle with being professional sometimes, it's hard to get out of character once you get into it for a good few hours." Her hands were nervously wringing under the table. "I'm glad you liked the pairing though, there were a lot of mixed views on it with fans." Casually, her hands lay on the table and pushed the plates into the centre of the table. Out of people's immediate reach.
"Well, fan opinion's not everything," the older woman offered after a tense silence. "Obviously everyone has their preferences, though. Hopefully my character will be able to steer clear of the shipper wars."
I'll give you a shipper war, Martha thought sullenly. Was Piper really so mad at her that she'd let Marissa sit with her on purpose? She and the girlfriend were going to have to have a talk after this. Maybe they should get those tattoos she'd mentioned after all, something to make it clear that they were a couple. Because apparently, some people just couldn't get the message.
"Do you have to be on-set today?" she asked the brunette, trying to at least pretend to keep it polite. "I have the car with me, I can drop you off. What's your schedule like for today?"
Piper cringed inwardly. Why was Martha being so possessive? Marissa hadn't hit on her or anything. Quietly, the actress thought it was a little over the top and potentially un-called for. However, she never voiced any of this. "No." Instead she looked back over to the blonde apologetically, hoping that it was conveyed before lowering her head slightly to address Martha.
"I finished my scene yesterday, I have today off and maybe tomorrow." Her lip was chewed briefly before she cleared her throat slightly. That was their cue to leave, and she knew it. How did she say that to the new woman she would be working with? Shit. This had been a disaster.
Hesitantly she stood up, nervously re-arranging the plates again and pulling her wallet free from her pants pocket. She left enough to cover everyone's lunch with a nice tip. "It was really nice to see you today, enjoy the rest of your day." Piper felt like an idiot, the words were sincere but under the circumstances they sounded...stupid. "I'll see you on set." With that said she walked as calmly as she could to the door, holding it open for Martha. Inside her stomach was doing flips.
It was so nice to meet you. Maybe I should just have sex with you right now. Martha's paranoia was doing a fine job of translating for her, and she had to force a smile as she and Piper left the small restaurant. She knew she was being ridiculous, but maybe she had a reason to be ridiculous. She wasn't stupid. The bell over the door jingled, signalling their departure.
Still seated at the table, Marissa lifted her hand in a wave and then stared down into her cold coffee. If thjat was what actresses were like after they'd been in the business for a while, maybe she should re-think this whole acting thing. God forbid she should ever start acting like that in public.
"Are you through embarrassing me for today?" the redhead demanded once she and her girlfriend were safely out of earshot. "Jesus, are you so pissed off at me that you had to ask some..." She couldn't even think of a word bad enough, so she settled on, "...crone to sit down with you. Was that payback or something?"
Piper's lanky frame seemed to hunch slightly as she was being scolded by Martha. It honestly hadn't been like that. The truth was, the brunette didn't even know if Marissa was gay, or at even bisexual. The blonde had a husband on the show, and Piper honestly doubted the woman would be interested in her, of all people, in the cast of Birthright: The Series.
"I'm s-sorry, Mar..." Her lower lip was being chewed again and she leaned against the car once they got to it. Not to slump, but as if it would give her some stability. Right now she felt sick. She hated disappointing her girlfriend, unfortunately she seemed to do it so frequently that she was starting to think maybe Martha would be happier without her.
The brunette kept her head lowered, her lip finally being released from her teeth. "She's new on the s-set. We have to w-work with her, Mar, I was trying t-to be polite." Then, softly, barely looking up at the red-head she added, "I'm not mad at you. I'm glad you had a good night." The sad thing was, it was true.
Great, now she was fucking stammering. Martha could feel the headache coming back, and she slipped her sunglasses back on against the glare of the early-afternoon sun. Maybe she should call Jaclyn today. Jaclyn would know how to make sense of all of this. That was what friends were for, right?
"Just..." She waved her hands around as if she were conducting an invisible orchestra, then blew out a frustrated breath. "Just get in the car. Please. I'm begging you."
She was being an asshole. She was being an asshole and she knew it and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She was going to have to cut Calvin loose after this, stop hanging out with him so much, he was getting her into trouble.
"Please, baby." Softer now, softer and gentler. "We'll go out someplace tonight, just the two of us. We can even go dancing if that's what you want. Okay?"
Piper was chewing her lip again, but she opened the car door and slipped into the passenger seat silently. Had it always been like this? Oh, but Martha had started talking to her in that special way again, that lulling, soft way that was only ever used for the brunette. It could start a fire and leave her calm all at once.
Green eyes turned to watch as the red-head got into the drivers seat. When her girlfriend reached over to put the key in the ignition she caught her hand, wrapping her longer, slender fingers around the smaller hand and brought it to her lips. Wordlessly, she let her mouth dance across the pale flesh, letting it tell the shorter woman everything in delicate caresses.
Slowly, she kissed each fingertip, before brushing her cheek against Martha's hand. "Why don't we skip going out tonight? We could stay at my place; order something ridiculously expensive from room service." Piper leaned in, closing the distance between them so that she could smell her girlfriend's perfume, the slightly musky scent of her skin. "We could take a shower together, wrap up in those big fluffy robes you adore..." Each word brought her mouth closer to the woman's ear, her breath tickling across it with a warm promise.
"When the food arrives we could rent a movie, and I could pamper you..." Softly, her face was pressed against Martha's, nuzzling lightly behind the woman's ear before her lips moved around to ghostly move against the red-head's with her next words. "We could spend the night in bed, and I could feed you." Piper's breath wasn't the only thing touching Martha's lips after those words. It started off light, almost gentle, like a first kiss, before those soft lips pressed harder, the passion locked inside bubbling over until the other woman could feel it. Raw and real as her breath hitched and her lips parted just enough to lightly flick the tip of her tongue against Martha's lips.
Martha made a noise of soft contentment into the kiss. She loved her. She really did, whether she was an asshole or not. And Calvin would be no big loss. This was too important for her to screw it up. Let the gangly shithead get some new friends.(more)
"That sounds very, very good," she said, cupping Piper's face between her palms. Her thumb traced over the brunette's bottom lip as she smiled, and she added, "Don't let me forget to take the phone off the hook. We wouldn't want to be disturbed."
No more fighting, she promised herself. And no more staying out all night. Maybe even some nager management classes. Right after she told Calvin Regan to take a hike. |
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| [Wednesday, October 3, 2007 at 7:20 pm] |
| Subject: Lights, Camera, Hangover! |
Martha woke up with dry-mouth. Again. She'd told herself that tequila shooters were a bad idea, but parties had a way of getting to her after a long day of shooting. She rolled onto her side, felt the headache intensify in reaction to the movement, then made it onto her back while the room started to spin in a gentle circle. At least they didn't need her on the set today, which meant she could suffer through this on her own. She was going to have to get her own space. This whole trailer thing just wasn't cutting it. Maybe if she asked Piper about apartments...
Piper. Fuck. They'd been supposed to meet for breakfast. What time was it? She was probably already late. Martha looked around for the clock, then stared at it blearily. Yeah, she was late, it was already past eleven. Ugh. She propped herself up on one elbow, closing her eyes to avoid the ray of sunlight that was coming in through the blinds. Eyes still shut, she fumbled her way out of bed and into the kitchen. No more tequila after this. Ever.
As if she hadn't made that promise to herself a hundred times before. She hoped Piper wouldn't throw something at her, she didn't think she could take a fight with the girlfriend today.
Martha drank some juice, took some asprin, drank some more juice. At least she'd managed to dodge the photographer she'd seen lurking around the edges of things last night. The last thing she needed while she was in between public relations managers was more pictures turning up in the Enquirer. Damage control was something better left to the professionals. Too bad she usually forgot that until the damage was done. Well, that was show business.
She showered and changed clothes, then found a pair of sunglasses amid the chaos of her bedroom and slipped them on. According to the clock, it was now eleven forty-five. Breakfast was going to be lunch by the time she got there. At least she was trying, though, that had to count for something, right?
At least the day couldn't get any worse. She hoped. |
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| [Tuesday, September 18, 2007 at 7:46 am] |
| Subject: Have Wheels, Will Travel |
| Mood |
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Friends of P - The Rentals |
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Rhiannon's second phone message had motivated Connor to find the nearest phone book and start checking junkyard locations. He remembered fighting the Defiler the last time, and whoever went down there was going to need heavier weapons. He found three locations that seemed close by and scribbled down the addresses for future reference.
There was only one problem.
No vehicle to get there, and no way to get the stuff to Fang Noir once he found it.
He loitered around the the diner for most of the morning, then the Lighthouse after his shift was over, hoping that one of the local ranchers would come in so he could ask them for a ride. But as it got later and later, it looked like the answer to that was a resounding 'no'. Connor slapped his pockets, thought about calling the Slayer back to explain the situation, then decided against it. He'd said he'd do what he could, that meant it was up to him.
He wandered over to the general store, bought a Coke and some potato chips, then sat on the curb and ate while watching the parking lot. His kingdom for his own wheels...
Mallory had made a list of things to do when she left Vegas for the afternoon; feed the dog, take in the mail and the newspapers, get some stuff for Sonya. She'd swung by Unseen Insight briefly to check a few of their books, but she'd found nothing helpful about succubi. She had halfway decided to make a special trip to UNLV to go on the internet and see what she could learn there. Everything was on the internet, there was bound to be something relevant amid all the porn websites and message boards about science fiction.
The redhead was making a last-minute stop at the general store for a six-pack of root beer when she noticed the young guy sitting on his butt and picking at a hole in the knee of his jeans. She passed him by, went inside and made her purchases, then stepped back outside to pull one of the cans loose from the plastic ring and crack it open. It fizzed against her nose when she took that first sip, and she made a mental note to cut up the ring before she threw it away. In all this time, Hannah's outrage over captive turtles had not been forgotten.
"Waiting on somebody?" she asked the guy, recognizing him vaguely from the Lighthouse. "I think they're about to close, and they don't really like it when you hang around after hours." If he was still pretty new to Searchlight, he might not realize how early things closed down here.
"Uh, kind of, yeah," Connor replied. "I was hoping to get a ride up to Vegas for an...errand." That was kind of lame, but what was he supposed to tell her? That he needed to go dumpster diving for weapons to battle it out with a walking tin can? Yeah, bad plan. He wiped his left hand on his jeans, drank some more soda. She looked about his age, maybe a little older, but he knew that once he stoo up, she'd have to crane her neck to maintain eye contact. She was a little slouchy, which would make the difference in height even more pronounced.
"No car," he explained, responding to her look, and the woman nodded. Had he served her beer before? She lloked familiar, but when you worked in a bar that was par for the course, especially in a place this small. "I'd take the bus, but I've got some stuff to pick up."
Hitch-hiking? Mallory looked him over, noting the relative lightness of his build, then looked at her truck. She supposed she could offer, but he was a stranger. "You work over at the bar, right?" she asked, making a hand gesture in the general direction of the Lighthouse, and he nodded. "Yeah. I was thinking I'd seen you in there before, but I've probably seen almost everyone in town there at one point or another." He put his can of Coke down, wiped his hands again, then stood up. She tilted her head upwards, watching the way his hair obscured his eyes a bit. It struck a chord of memory, one that was there and then gone in less than three seconds.
A hand was extended in her direction. "Hi, I'm Connor."
"Oh, right." the redhead said with a nod, and the Destroyer raised an eyebrow. They shook hands, and she continued, "Julie mentioned you, she said you guys were getting to be pretty good friends." The mention of the werewolf had him dropping his gaze to the concrete. "Then I guess you've got the advantage on me," he said, a faint blush tingeing his ears. The woman smiled a little sheepishly. "Sorry. My name's Mallory. Mallory Quinn."
It clicked into place after a second, and Connor pushed brown hair away from his forehead. "I guess your ears must be burning. Either that or I just conjured you out of the air. I know Rhiannon Lee, she mentioned your name the other day."
Well, this was just turning into a game of 'who-knows-who', wasn't it? Mallory looked up at Connor with a surprised half-smile. She and Rhiannon had met once, months ago after the thing with the Scourge, and that the Slayer would remember her was both flattering and kind of strange. Maybe she just never met many ordinary humans willing to charge into a camp full of armed demons? Either way, it was enough to get her attention.
"How's Julie?" she asked, moving to lean against the truck while she finished the first root beer. "Oh, she's, uh, she's coping. After Hannah and all." Connor regarded the gravel of the parking lot for a minute, focusing on a single piece of it. "She kinda flipped out for a while, but she was in a lot of pain. We both were. I was...I was there when she..." "Yeah." Mallory's voice was quiet, and they looked at one another in silent understanding. She was going to have to tell him about seeing the blonde. Hannah had said to tell him she was okay.
"What's your errand? If Rhiannon mentioned my name, I'm guessing it's something to do with fighting. A year or so ago, there was a situation with some demons. You need some help?" Because he wasn't a stranger now, at least not technically, and although she had other obligations because of Sonya, she could still help out if it was necessary. Any friend of Julie's was a friend of hers.
Connor looked around, drained the lasr of his soda and tossed the can into the trash. He stepped closer to the redhead, lowering his voice. Rhiannon's mention of her meant that she was likely trustworthy, and she had asked about what he was up to.
"It's called the Defiler," he told her. "Big, nasty, demon-thing. Makes whatever it touches rot." The Destroyer lowered his voice another notch, barely above a whisper. It was still daylight, but he'd never said the name out loud before. "Elfleda. She's got it on a leash."
Connor's sudden intensity plucked at the memory chord again, and Mallory realized what was familiar about him, if only by proxy. The hand gesture to push the hair out of his face, the tightening of his posture at the mention of an upcoming battle, the way his eyes narrowed before he said the Corruptress' name as though he were saying the filthiest thing he could imagine. Boden. Brave warrior.
She was silent for so long that Connor wondered if he'd freaked her out, and he touched her on the shoulder. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?" Mallory shook her head, casting the brief reverie aside. "No, it's fine. You just...reminded me of somebody I used to know. Long story." She shifted, looked over her shoulder to make sure no one else had overheard.
"C'mon, get in the truck. We can talk about this 'stuff' you need to get on the way up to Vegas. I was heading back there anyway. I'm looking after a friend and she still needs me up there until she's better." Connor's posture straightened. He'd sort of considered asking, and the potato chip bag crinkled in his hands before he threw that away as well. The sun would be setting in a couple of hours, but they'd have time to get at least a few things together before dark. "You're sure? I can chip in for gas or something." He touched his pocket, but the redhead waved the notion aside.
"It sounds like it's for a good cause. Maybe I'll come by the bar in a week or so, you can buy me a couple of beers instead." Mallory tipped her head in the direction of the passenger door, and the young man started moving towards it. The world just seemed to get smaller and smaller every day. Which reminded her...
"By the way? Hannah says hello, and that she's okay where she is." Mallory smiled at Connor over the hood of the truck, then opened her own door and climbed behind the wheel. Taken aback by the statement, the Destroyer paused, an uncertain smile flickering across his face, and then he got into the vehicle, looking at his new companion a little dubiously.
Yeah, they were going to talk about a lot of interesting things. |
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| [Friday, August 3, 2007 at 10:07 am] |
| Subject: In Rememberance |
| Mood |
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 melancholy |
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Mallory had spent the day in a kind of numb shock. The newspapers had been piling up in the yard because she'd been back and forth to Vegas so much in recent days, and when she finally cleaned them up she'd skimmed through them just enough to find Hannah's obituary printed there. It took her three readings to mbe sure that it wasn't a joke, then three more to actually believe it.
She walked outside, the paper still clutched in her hands, then stared across at where the blonde lived. Had lived. God. It must have been while she was so wrapped up with Victoria. And she hadn't known. Hadn't had any idea. And now Hannah was gone and she was never going to see her again.
The redhead took up a vigil at the diner for the rest of the day, drinking bad coffee and talking quietly to the other locals about her friend. No one seemed to have any other information about what had happened, although of course the rumors were flying. An alien abduction. A secret government operation. Elvis had showed up in all the confusion and spirited Hannah away. But Mallory knew. Searchlight had gotten the waitress, the craziness claiming another innocent victim.
When it started to get dark, she headed on home, head a little bowed, lost in thought. She cried a little. She hadn't even gotten to tell Hannah the stupid story about having breakfast next to a fake hooker. The blonde would have sat there, all big-eyed and wondering, and then they would have laughed over it while drinking mudslides. They should have had more time for it. For a lot of things.
She'd never told Hannah she loved her, that she was the sister she'd never had. And she had, but now it was too late. That made her cry harder.
Back at her own trailer, Mallory ate dinner by herself, then walked Tuffy. While the dog sniffed at the scrub grass and dawdled about doing his business, she went and sat on Hannah's front steps to watch the sun go down. If she had known where Devon was, she'd have written to him. Death was so fucking stupid, and it always seemed to grab up the good ones for itself. It made her angry and sad all at once.
Realizing that he'd lost the attention of his human, the boxer whined quietly, then trotted over to butt his squarish head against her calf. Mallory scratched the dog behind the ears absently, digging her fingers into the thick fur. "You remember Hannah, don't you, pup? She probably fed you every time she saw you in the yard when I wasn't around. It's why you're so fat."
Tuffy grinned at her in his usual doggy fashion, his tail thumping against the sand as he wagged it, and the two of them sat there until it got dark. Finally the redhead decided to head on in, but not before stepping up to the door of her friend's trailer and laying a hand against it. If this was the only way she could say it, then this was how she'd say it.
"Goodbye, Hannah, wherever you went. I love you." |
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| [Sunday, July 8, 2007 at 1:32 pm] |
| Subject: For Better and For Worse |
| Mood |
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 uncomfortable |
| Music |
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Dear Lover - Social Distortion |
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"Mallory... Baby... I've been leaving all these messages, but you never get back to me... Not even once... And I so need to see you... Don't you know that...? I'm so damn hungry for you right now... Don't you still want me, Mallory...? Don't you still love me...? I miss you so much... I need you... You're hurting me, Mallory. You don't let me see you and... And I don't understand. Why don't you return my calls? Didn't you get the flowers I keep sending? Are you screwing around with someone else again? Is that it? Are you hurting me on purpose? Did I do wrong? Maybe that's what it is... You hate me and... And you want me to be alone... But I love you, Mallory. I do... You're my drug... I'd do anything just to see you again... And if you keep doing this I'll cut your fucking head off, do you hear me, you little bitch?!"
That isn't really Victoria on the answering machine. She has to remember that. There's something wrong with Vicky, she knows that. Even if she doesn't know what it is, something is wrong. The woman she loves would never talk to her like that.
She wishes it didn't sound so much like her.
She wishes 'screwing around' hadn't been mentioned.
She wishes she didn't have Julie's voice on a tape loop inside her head, saying everything she never wanted to hear.
She wishes she didn't know about her uncle Phillip, who used to be a blackout drunk and would go into long tirades against anyone and everyone only to forget every word he'd said the next day. That Phillip's kids, her cousins, Paxton and Heidi, hadn't grown up lsitening to their father call them terrible things until they believe the man actually meant it. "That's when people tell you what they really think of you," Heidi had once said bitterly when she and Pax had to take shelter with Ma and Pop. "When they're drunk, the gloves come off and they can be honest."
Phillip's sober now, of course, having joined AA through a program at his new church, but there's a chasm of silence between him and his children. Because neither of them entirely believe that he didn't mean the awful things he used to say about them. She wishes she didn't know any of that. But she does. |
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| [Saturday, August 26, 2006 at 12:42 pm] |
| Subject: Safe House |
| Mood |
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 sympathetic |
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After seeing those men and watching Boden tossed around like a ragdoll Gwen had pretty much taken to the highway like a bat out of hell.
Boden had buckled Fiona in already so that hadn't been a problem but it was hard to think straight when the men that Boden had said would be coming for her little girl had finally shown up. She'd hoped and she'd prayed to the Lord above that they wouldn't but they had and now all she could do was hope Boden could handle them. So far he had seemed like a capable young man. A lot reserved and quiet but still capable.
Boden's car, the one he'd intended to drive, was gunning at more than twenty over the speed limit down a pitch black stretch of tarmac so it wasn't long until its wheels were practically cutting up the ground and announcing its presence in the trailer park with a rather high pitched screech. "Stay here, baby, lock the doors." Gwen spoke urgently to Sadie before slipping out of the car and hurrying her step to the trailer Boden had mentioned.
Gwen knocked over and over again on the door.
Please be in, please God, be in...
"All right, all right, I'm on my way, keep your pants on," Quinn called, making her way towards the door. She'd been washing dishes at the sink when the knocking started, and she draped the towel she'd dried her hands with over her shoulder before checking through the peephole.
The frightened-looking woman on the other side of the door had the redhead taking the chain off, a concerned expression crossing her face. "Yes?" she said, looking over the other woman's shoulder to see the strange car in the driveway. "Can I help you?"
( Refuge )
Sadie wandered over to the kitchen table, took a seat in front of her sandwiches and then pried the bread apart and sniffed. She then leaned back and took the first bite, chewing and swallowing quite well.
Gwen, the mother in question, had laid out on the couch and was caught half way between the conscious world and the unconscious world.
"She usually lets me have two after food," Sadie shared around a mouthful of bread and beef.
"All right, then, you can have two," the redhead said with a nod, glad for the second time that she had some experience dealing with children thanks to her brother. She peeked into the living room, noticed that Gwen had laid down on the couch, then tossed the empty milk container into the trash.
"Enjoy your lunch," she told the girl. "In a little while, I'll try to call the guy who sent you here and see what's up. If he doesn't show up at the door himself, that is."
She took a chair opposite from Sadie, deciding to wait it out with the girl. How to start a conversation with a seven-year-old girl? She'd figure something out. |
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