“He’s had the divorce papers six years?” Raven’s voice was incredulous. She sponged a generous layer of concealer under Jean’s eyes after patting on some Preparation H beneath her lids to relieve them of the puffiness left over from Jean’s overindulgences the night before. Despite a long shower and a session with her acupuncturist, Jean was still sweating vanilla vodka from her pores. “That’s six years of your life that you’ll never get back. You don’t just grind an axe like that for six years. What the hell was he thinking?”
“Apparently he had a lot on his mind. He just decided to ‘share’ with his therapist instead of me.” Her voice was petulant one moment, then resigned as she continued pouring everything out. “My nephew is my stepson. How fucked up is that?”
“Not for long,” Raven mused. “He’ll go back to just being your nephew when you sign those papers.”
“Who said I’m going to sign? He’s my husband. I’m not going to just hand him over to my sister on a silver platter. She can’t have him. She’s not wearing his ring on her finger!” Raven’s eyes flitted to Jean’s enormous two-carat solitaire and Florentine yellow gold wedding band despite herself. She was paid by the hour to take care of Jean’s needs, but hearing Jean talk about Scott brought back unwelcome memories of her ex and made the arguments, ugly court battles, and blow-ups during the final days of their marriage come haring back full-force. She’d just had another Botox injection; frowning wasn’t an option.
“So after everything that’s happened, you’re going to fight for him?”
“He’s my husband,” Jean dodged, as though this was irrefutable truth. “For better or worse.”
“We’re past worse. This is officially ‘worst.’ Adultery was bad enough. He schtupped your sister. This isn’t the same thing as ‘He hates it when I make meatloaf’ or ‘He doesn’t like my mother.’ This isn’t something your marriage can just rebound from, Jean.” Jean tried to force her face to relax as Raven began to mix the foundation in the small dish. “You need a brilliant lawyer. You’re not dealing with custody, just your estate and how to divide it up. Just because you won’t have any kids for him to pay child support for, that doesn’t mean that you can’t get alimony. Shoot, you’d never have to work again.”
“I’m under contract with Xavier Pictures for another two films.”
“It’s a conflict of interest. A lawyer can help you find a loophole.”
“I don’t want a loophole.” Her eyes were brimming, but she mastered the urge. “I just want Scott the way he was before. He was so in love with me, Raven. You just don’t know.”
“Sure I do,” she quipped. “Been there, done that, send ya a postcard.” She stroked the makeup sponge down her nose. “You could cite fraud as the reason for the divorce. Everyone uses irreconcilable differences, and then they get boondoggled into marriage counseling for that one last attempt at ‘reconciling’.”
“No way in hell,” Jean snarled. “His therapist is the one who got us into this mess.”
“Nice. Didn’t she break the law about doctor/patient hoo-hah? Wasn’t that unethical?”
“She’s a licensed sex therapist, too, if you can believe that.”
“Aren’t they all?” Then Raven had a thought. “Is she the one that came on the talk shows and wrote the book about hypnotizing your penis to convince it that its bigger?” Raven yanked her hand back as Jean snorted and collapsed in a fit of shoulder-shaking laughter, turning bright red in the face.
“Ehhhhhhhh…shit. That’s brilliant. Hypnotizing your penis?”
“You think I’m lying. Google it.” Raven shook her head in defeat as she witnessed Jean’s tears threatening to ruin her handiwork. Warmly her fingers flicked them away before touching up the concealer again.
“Don’t think I won’t.” The laughter felt too good. She would have died for it.
Elsewhere, up in the clouds:
“Betcha didn’t know that the Winter Olympics were held here,” Logan teased, flicking his eyes across the spare cabin of the helicopter as he guided the tail rotors with his feet. His passenger was bundled snugly in a heavy jacket, gloves and jeans, per his advice, and looked good enough to eat. Cerulean blue eyes glowed back at him with a mixture of excitement and terror.
“It’s…like there’s nothing between me and the sky!”
“That’s how it’s supposed t’feel,” he confirmed. Logan adjusted his headset. “Comfortable, darlin’? Ya warm enough?”
“I’m fine. It’s…cozy. I didn’t expect it to be this much fun. I mean, this is a tiny little chopper. It’s like a bubble in here, but I don’t feel like the walls are closing in on me the way I did on the jet!”
“We’re not as high up. Ya don’t have a couple of tons of steel wrapped around ya, boxing ya in with a hundred other people thousands of feet up in the air. Hundreds of feet, sure,” he allowed. Ororo’s stomach bounced up into her ribcage with a tiny thrill as they descended low enough for a better view of the Okurayama Ski Jump Stadium. The mere sight of the impressive jump ramp’s pristine curl made her imagine how it would feel to speed down it with nothing but a pair of skis, practically flying by the seat of her pants.
Kind of how it felt to fly with Logan right now.
The sky was dotted with stars that continued to peek in and out of the scattered clouds. Logan braced himself; it felt and smelled like impending snow outside. He loved this time of year, on this side of the world. Below them, the snow was an eerie silvery blue, lit more by moonlight than the chopper’s small beacons as they hovered past.
“Beautiful,” Ororo murmured.
“Ya ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Logan reminded her, raising his voice slightly over the clamor of the rotors. They soared over the trees, nearly brushing their lush crowns as Logan gripped the cyclic control stick expertly, taking them back toward the city. “Wanna give it a try?”
“What?” Her voice was incredulous, holding notes of panic and disbelief.
“C’mon. Gimme yer hand. Don’t be shy,” he drawled with mischief. “Just hold onto the stick.” The double meaning wasn’t lost on her, if the wicked raise of her eyebrows was any indication. His voice was deep and rumbly and dripped with sensuality.
“Sure. That’s what they all say.” The curl of her luscious, full lips tempted him as she smiled.
“Bad girl,” he chastised.
“Stinker,” she tossed back. Then she surprised him by slowly reaching out to gently grip the control stick below where his hand was resting. Their eyes met briefly in anticipation of something forbidden as she felt his warmth, even through her snug gloves. He clasped her hand and eased it so her fingers were fitted neatly around the grooves of the lever, then closed his hand around her grip.
“That’s it,” he encouraged. “A little more to the right.” That ticklish feeling in her belly came back full force. This isn’t really happening. I’m flying a helicopter! “Yer doin’ it, darlin’!”
“I’m doing it,” she grinned. “Wow!” She couldn’t wait to tell Ali. She filed it away in the back of her mind to text her when she got her hands on her cellular, but in the meantime, sharing the experience of guiding the tiny craft they occupied was delicious.
The continued on that way for a few more minutes until Logan nodded toward her window with a look of satisfaction. “If ya didn’t have any other reason fer comin’ up here with me, this would have been it, right there. Look, darlin’. Moerenuma Park. Pretty, ain’t it?”
Understatement of the year. Her breath caught in her throat at the spectacle as she drank in her fill. Logan veered in closer to give her a better look, and he found himself moved by the soft look of awe and reverence that settled over her features. The park’s fountains were infused with multicolored lights that looked like cascading geysers of multiple layers of water. The water sprayed up in rainbow puffs before spilling back into the surrounding basins, stirring up rings of froth that reflected the same light.
“I can die happy now,” she muttered. “So help me, if this was what I got to see everyday at my own job, I don’t think I’d ever come out of the sky.”
“Fuel, food and the occasional trip ta powder my nose are the only things that pry me outta the chopper, most days. I love it up here. Even back when I flew during combat, there was something about flying that made ya feel like ya were above it all. Difference is, people’s lives aren’t in my hands now the way they were then.”
“You could have been killed. Someone could have fired on you with missiles, or rockets launched from the ground.” The gravity of those thoughts gave her pause, and she stared back at him, hating to make the moment seem so heavy. “You made it back. You’re an amazing pilot.”
“That didn’t hurt, either,” he admitted, his tone lacking conceit, but something brittle crept between them for a fleeting moment. “I love what I do now.”
“I can see why.” Her hand reached over to cover his this time, and the touch of her fingers stroking him was soothing and warmed him inside and out.
“I like having someone t’share it with fer a change. Ororo?”
“Hmm?”
“Seein’ all this with you feels like I’m seein’ it all for the first time, all over again.”
“Wow,” she breathed. Ororo felt herself flushing all the way up to her hairline, glad that the cabin was dark enough inside that he wouldn’t notice. They hovered for a few more moments, angling over the fountains and watching the geysers dance. Logan enjoyed the rainbow-colored glow that outlined her profile as she continued to watch the display. The vision she created burned itself into his memory. He’d never forget that moment. It inspired him to create more. “Logan?”
“Yeah, darlin’?”
“Thank you. For this. For everything. I’m so glad you brought me here tonight.”
“Any time.” His voice was flippant, but Ororo inwardly smacked herself for wishing that they could do it again. They were both going to be insanely busy over the next few weeks. She doubted that they would have time for another flight, but she beamed at him anyway. “Hey, ‘Ro?”
“Mm-hm?”
“What’re ya doin’ after yer shift tomorrow?”
“My whole day’s my ‘shift.’ We’re shooting the scenes indoors for the kidnapping. I’ve got to make the food for that set, and it’s got to be camera-ready and stunning. I wish I had Kurt with me, because making the food pretty is his specialty, but I needed him back at the restaurant to cover for me. Back-to-back menu changes in that tight of a window wear me out.”
“When did ya find the time t’make that fancy gift basket?”
“Those are easy, she scoffed. “Playing with chocolate is almost as relaxing as eating it!”
“How’d ya shape ‘em like cars?”
“I have some custom molds, but some of those I carve by hand if my molds don’t suit the image in my head of what I want it to look like.”
“Can’t believe ya went to the trouble.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“Ya did. I never got ta taste any of it, but I loved it anyway.” He kicked himself again for bringing up that awful moment when Jean and Scott were railing at each other, and it still smarted when he remembered the clench in his gut as Ororo’s legs darted around the corner in hasty retreat after getting an eyeful. Damn, that sucked.
“Sorry,” she offered. He could tell she was still a little shaken, too.
“S’okay. Thought that counts.” They breezed over Ishiyama Park and traded wisecracks about how it looked like alien crop circles and a little like Stonehenge. The aerial view of the wide stadium with its descending level of steps carved in the center of a cliff face was breathtaking, and Logan promised her that it would be even more spectacular up close and in the light of day.
“Ya gotta let me know when ya have some time t’do some more sightseeing,” he cajoled.
“I can’t promise anything.”
“Not even if I say pretty please with sugar on top?”
“Stubborn, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
“Guess I’ll just have to squeeze you in, somehow.” She was already mentally rearranging her day planner, searching for the widest windows of time to spend with him that the next few days would allow. Shit, she didn’t need to sleep.
“Yer flatterin’ me again, Ororo.”
“I work at it.”
Jean licked her lips with the barest skim of her tongue, taking special care not to bruise her carefully lined lips, coated in transparent color that made them look dew-kissed and that screamed You know you want some of this. She peered into the camera and shifted her weight to her left hip, letting the momentum of the movement arch her back.
“That’s it, Jeannie, let me see it! Beautiful!” Peter cheered her on from the sidelines, styling the shoot as shot the latest roll of film. The film wasn’t slated for release for months, but the publicity was Cassandra Xavier’s brainchild. Black and white noir-style photos and posters in every fashion and entertainment magazine, billboard, bus, and subway tunnel. Blood Money was projected to be one of the biggest hits of the year, as well as the film that cement Jean Grey’s standing as a serious actress after she waded through candy scripts and romantic comedy “vehicles” that left critics calling her a one-trick pony. Less kind reviewers panned it preemptively as flopping as badly as “Gigli” or any other film that lionized the stars and ignored the story that were de rigueur.
Peter had run her through the gauntlet, sending her for multiple touch-ups in Raven’s chair for the head shots. They had to be immaculate. She’d been ready to kill him when he pronounced “Back in the day, you’d nail the shot on the first frame of film. What the hell happened, Princess?” She’d had more to smile about, back in the day.
The mood shots were a snap. She channeled all of the rage and fear of what her future held without Scott into each frame, her anguish naked on her face. Peter ate it up.
“Nice,” he breathed as he checked the exposure and adjusted the lighting. He looked at the digital preview of the shot. Her eyes were haunted, haunting, and intense. He was almost moved. Almost. First and foremost, he was a perfectionist.
“I’m going to try something,” he muttered. “Joseph?”
“What d’you need?”
“Bring me an onion from the kitchenette and a little knife.” Joseph looked at him like he grew another head.
“’Kay.” He shuffled off on the errand. Jean looked puzzled.
“Jean…I know we’re getting down to the wire. You’re frazzled. This has been a tough week. We’ve got some good shots, but I want you to dig deeper. You’re not acting here. You’re not using your words. You’re using that fantastic face and body of yours to make anyone who looks at these shots want to wrap you up in a blanket and tuck you into bed.”
“Give me a fucking break,” she huffed.
“I don’t remember asking for that kind of attitude. This movie’s paying your salary.”
“The Xavier twins are paying my salary.”
“Okay, then, this film is paying MY salary. I intend to work my ass off for it.” He took the onion from Joseph when he returned. He placed the onion on the small worktable that held more photographic equipment and lenses. She watched with disbelief when he took the knife and diced off several pieces of onion, without peeling it first. “C’mere.”
“What??”
“You heard me. Take a good, deep whiff…”
“I don’t see what this is supposed to…AACCCK!” She backed away as Peter held the pulpy handful of weeping onion wedges beneath her nose. “That shit BURNS, you fucker!”
“Yup. A few more good snorts’ll do it.”
“Do what?”
“Make those brilliant, beautiful green eyes of yours do this,” he explained, reaching for a small makeup mirror that Raven left out. “Look.” He brandished it in front of her triumphantly, and she looked at her eyes, hating the glaze of tears and sudden hint of pinkness creeping across the whites.
“Are you crazy? Raven, I need you to touch me up again!”
“No, she doesn’t, Raven, sit your sweet fanny back down. That’s it. That’s what I want. Those eyes. Haunted, angry, afraid, and…yes. Back on the set,” he barked. Jean backed away, but obeyed.
“Lay down on the bed. Joseph, zoom in. Lay back. Let yourself dangle off the edge, like you just woke up in the morning.” Her body slid into the unlikely sprawl, but she made it look natural. “Dig deeper, Jeannie. The hostage films, the worst argument you’ve ever had, your first breakup, I want it all in here,” Peter demanded, pointing his two fingers at his own eyes. “If you hate me right now for messing your makeup, I want to see it. You’re captive, afraid, pissed off at the indignity of being trapped! I want it all!”
“You’re fucking out of your mind,” she hissed indignantly, and her eyes narrowed and glimmered with unshed tears.
“That’s gorgeous. Did you get that Joseph?”
“Shit, yes!” Joseph was having a ball. Jean writhed and struggled to find comfortable purchase on the makeshift bed, feeling like a sacrifice fighting her way off the altar. She glared up into the lens, her chest thrust up as she pressed her shoulders into the mattress.
“Tell me to fuck off,” Peter encouraged.
“Gladly, dickhead!” It was almost cathartic.
“Hate me, baby!” Peter wondered if it was him that she was really pissed off at.
“I hate your stupid ass!” She oozed anger, mingled with sensuality that nearly made Peter hard. He fought back the urge to go back into the back room and whack off with visions of Cassandra Xavier in granny panties. All right. He was better now.
Kitty would kill him if word of this got back. But he was getting shots that he would sell their future firstborn for.
All the while, thoughts of Logan cozying up to Ororo swam through Jean’s mind and made her want to scream. That was the shot that was eventually distributed in the press packets from the public relations department.
Raven watched the remainder of the shoot with a surprising amount of sympathy, even as she unpacked her makeup sponges for the inevitable touch-ups. Even though her recent eyelift kept her from crying, she too was moved.
Once the lid was off Pandora’s box, she couldn’t just turn it back off. She felt raw and hollow. She cried into Peter’s sweater while he awkwardly patted her and while Joseph packed up the cameras.
Sapporo Brewery:
“Ya’ve gotta try a bite of this.” Logan tucked enthusiastically into his barbecued lamb. He was cutting it with his steak knife, plucking a morsel loose from the slab. “Have some.”
“Bet mine’s better,” she bragged.
“I wouldn’t take that bet. Yer probably right. But taste it anyway.” He wanted to satisfy the urge to watch her eat. She obliged him, leaning forward as he reached out with the tidbit of lamb. He teased her bottom lip with it before pressing it into her mouth. She let her eyes drift shut in rapture as her lips wrapped themselves around their finger and thumb.
“Mmmmm,” she purred against his skin. Her mouth was hot and liquid against him. His “redwood” returned, making him wish he could spend the next hour feeding Ororo from his plate, just to feel those lips suckle him again. It was a cruel, cruel world, he mused. “Not bad,” she admitted. She’d ordered the unagi, which seemed to be a favorite meal of hers. Logan filed away that and a few dozen other little observations about her that he’d made since the night began. Ororo hated tight spaces, but didn’t mind heights. She was an only child. She switched hands with her fork after she cut her meat. She liked a good beer jut as much as a glass of wine. She had a throaty laugh. Her blue eyes held glints of yellow around the pupils in certain lights.
“I wanted ta take ya somewhere ya hadn’t already been, hopefully.”
“Mission accomplished. This is nice. I missed it on my last trip to this side of the world.”
“Good. I’m glad.” He wanted to give her the grand tour of his rented condo. It was too soon. But the way she was looking at him made him wonder if his advances would really be unwelcome.
He backed up a step, remembering the whole messy disaster from the hallway. Jean, crying into his shirt. Scott tearing him a new one. Broken cookies. Ororo’s wounded look of disappointment. ”I can’t hate you. I don’t even know you.” Ouch. It still rankled.
More than anything, he wanted to taste her. Her light, sweet scent still lingered on the shirt from when he’d caught her and held her against him. He could feel the tension thrumming in her muscles and stiffening her spine. He wanted to kiss away the little furrows between her brows and work his way down, slowly. She’d shucked the heavy jacket and was clad in a thin, figure-hugging sweater of periwinkle blue cashmere with a scooped neckline and three-quarter length sleeves. She tucked it into snug black jeans that fit like a second skin. Her body was a melody of lithe curves that put the meal on his plate to shame. He wanted to feast on her. Badly. Dinner, dessert, and midnight snack, and then, maybe just maybe, breakfast.
The opportunity presented itself sooner than he expected.
Logan skillfully maneuvered the rented Lincoln Navigator through late evening traffic, dodging clubhoppers searching for parking garages as they made their way back to the bungalows. Ororo’s was off the front of the property. She had one of the medium-sized single units, not having to share one with the other staffers or extras. They were both relatively quiet on the ride back, both sneaking looks at each other across the gearshifts. Ororo finally gave in to the urge to touch him, and once again, her hand closed gently around his as he shifted the car into first, this time letting her silky palm stroke his hands. His skin was hot and supple. She caressed his thick knuckles thoughtfully, drawing his gaze to her face.
“I had a good time tonight, Ororo.”
“So did I.” She didn’t want it to end. The scene with Jean replayed itself in her mind’s eye before she could stop it. I don’t want to be his rebound girl. Even if he looked delicious. His jaw was firm and square, and his lips were sensual looking, the lower one slightly fuller than the top one. A sharp little notch in his upper lip made her want to taste it. His dark eyes burned her, staring out above firm, high cheekbones.
“I wanna spend more time with ya.”
“You know where to find me. I’ll be tied to the kitchen all day tomorrow.”
“I was thinking more of getting out and about. Not just in the chopper.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Sightseeing. A trip to the zoo. Maybe even a little skiing.”
“Not off the jump?” she joked.
“Nope. Not the first time I take ya,” he jibed, warming her with his smile.
He parked the Navigator in an uncovered space by a storage garage on the side of the building. “See ya in the A.M., bright an’ early.”
“You’ll see me,” she promised. “Don’t know when. But you will.”
“G’night.”
“Good night.” Logan cut the car’s engine, letting the stereo shut off and killing the lights on the car’s dashboard. His eyes blazed with hunger and desire in the dark as he reached for her. Her hands trembled with anticipation as he pulled her to him, gripping her upper arms as he bent his head to kiss her. His lips settled over hers, brushing gently at them at first, but gradually molding hers to suit him. His mouth slanted over hers before she opened for him, letting his tongue sweep inside. They shared breath and heat, entwining their arms around each other within the confines of the car, taking full advantage of the dark interior to stretch their goodbye out for as long as they could. Logan’s fingers grazed her scalp as he tangled his fingers in her waves of silky hair. Ororo moaned against his lips, and he felt the swell of her breasts push against him, soft and inviting. He felt her fingertips tracing the contours of his cheek and jaw before cupping his nape tenderly. Just as the kisses began to slow, they would come up for air only to drown in each other’s gaze again, and lean back into it full measure. For Ororo, the earth seemed to move…
…she was jerked back to reality once the car stuttered backwards out of the parking space.
“Shit,” Logan hissed, breaking away long enough to right the gearshift after they accidentally knocked it into reverse in their zeal. Both of their hands fumbled for it. “Ya okay?”
“Fine. I’m…fine.” She burned for him.
“Awright. Fine. Good.” He pecked her once more on the mouth before caressing her cheek. “G’night.”
Ororo fought the urge to stagger back to her bungalow as she walked wit Logan’s eyes boring into her back. Her legs felt like limp noodles. She drifted inside on a hazy, happy cloud. She was fine until she had an epiphany while brushing her teeth.
She didn’t know how to ski.
Shit.
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