Voices from outside her bedroom door caused her head to perk up. Standing up she ran her fingers over the silk skirt she bore to smooth the wrinkles out. She stepped in front of her antique mirror and checked her appearance. Her short reddish/brownish hair stuck out crazily at the ends like always which was what she got for continuously cutting it. She supposed that’s just what happened when you had naturally thick, wavy hair. Her pale arms scattered with light freckles looked even paler now that she donned a black turtleneck with no sleeves. A long peach skirt and ankle high boots covered her scandalous white legs. She had done her usual face painting with eyeliner, mascara, and lip-gloss. Just enough to bring out her eyes, which she thought was her best feature.

Grey and Blue…mixed in she supposed. She could never really tell, and neither could anyone else. "MMM, Mel where are you! Come meet our guests, and than lets eat this wonderful smelling food!" She heard Jack shout from outside her door. "I’m coming!" She called back, taking one last look at herself, than walking out of her bedroom.

She walked into the kitchen, seeing Jack and her guests all seated at the table, the pot of warm spaghetti sitting in the middle of the small table. She took notice of the men when they noticed her presence in the room. She of course, remembered Billy Thorton from college only a few years back. He had become a happy owner of his very own art museum a year ago, and seemed to be doing very well with that. The other man looked vaguely familiar to her. She couldn’t place it. But she could place the slight increase of her heartbeat. Both men stood and she walked over to them. "It’s nice to see you again Mel, it’s been awhile." Billy said, shaking her hand formally.

Usually she had received a hug, but considering the other distinguished man there tonight, she figured he was very important. Turning to the other man, she held out her hand. Instead of just a handshake she received a long gaze and a peck on the hand. "It is wonderful to meet you, Mel is it? I’m Brian Littrell. I’m an art collector, and Mr. Thorton has informed me of the great work your roommate does. I finally was able to come down yesterday and see some of her work at the museum, and I’m very excited to see some of her new projects tonight." She nodded, letting her eyes fall over his body from head to toe. He had short, curly, sandy/blonde hair that fell short over his eyes, which sort of surprised her. Most men of his class had their hair slicked back, and stern looks upon their faces. He had an easy-going smile, and his baby blue eyes twinkled slightly.

His attire was a lot to look at though which pointed out the fact that he was very important. It tore his sweet features away, and put the cold-hearted businessman into the picture. For some reason, he didn’t seem cold-hearted one bit. But hell, she just met him. "Well thank you for coming. I know Jack, I mean, Brooke appreciates it." Her roommate shot her a quick, feverish glance at her almost big boo boo. She kept forgetting to never call her by her old pet name from college in front of potential clients, or client’s period. Her pen name was Brooke Daniel’s. Only a few people called her by her real name, Katherine. Family members, old friends, special acquaintances.

She had only continued calling her Jack because it suited her so well. Plus, she was too lazy to start calling her Katherine again. It had been Jack since high school, and Jack it shall stay.

Dinner had gone by quickly and soon she was left with an empty kitchen, and dirty plates. Muttering, she cleaned everything up and than went into the living room. Mr. Littrell and Billy were seated on either side of Katherine looking at her sketches on the coffee table. She had probably shown them the finished projects that were too big to drag out in her studio/bedroom. She had offered to buy a fold out couch so Jack didn’t have to sleep in her studio with the smell of paint. But she had politely declined the offer, saying that the smell of paint is her "inspiration." She could only shrug at that, and didn’t bother offering again.

The three looked up at her a moment later and smiled. "Hey Mel." Jack greeted, before turning back to her sketches. Billy nodded slightly at her than returned to what he had been doing before. Only Mr. Littrell continued to acknowledge her presence. "So what’s it like living with an aspiring artist?" Mr. Littrell wondered, getting up from his spot on the sofa, abandoning the scattered sketches. He stood before her in a breathtaking manner that only a man of his state could uphold. "Oh well, it tends to leave this place a little busy and me constantly cooking up spaghetti." She joked. He smiled at her attempt to make him laugh. She started feeling a bit shaky; he was almost intimidating. It had to be the suit; it drove her crazy. She just wanted to rip it off him and burn it.

Trying to forget about her uneasiness in her own home, she shifted her weight on her right side and tried to ease down. "So, Mr. Littrell, what kind of art do you collect?" "All kinds. More abstract than any. I do have variety though." "Well Brooke does do some abstract, but she is more into destruction art. She tends to have a twisted mind." She almost regretted pointing out the fact that Jack was a little morbid to one of her clients. Jack might have not let Mr. Littrell see that kind of work. "Well yes I’m aware of that. Those are the sketches I asked for. My fiancée’ is well, a little on the edgy side. She has this weird obsession with dark things. Don’t ask me why, but I think it comes from her having a psychopathic mother." He explained. Her heart began beating a little faster at the comment. She hoped he was joking.

"I suppose we all have our things." She could just imagine his fiancée’, posing as the perfect wife in the public eye with pink and white gowns, her dark hair in soft tringles. Than as soon as the bedroom door closed, she pulled out the whips and chains, throwing on skintight leather, pulling Mr. Littrell into bonds. She was glad Jack wasn’t like that. She may have some morbid art, but that just came from a twisted imagination. Mr. Littrell’s fiancée was probably abused as a child. God, she was getting disgusted just thinking about it. "If you’ll excuse me." She said quickly to Jack’s guest as she turned around and walked into the next room and out onto the balcony.

She shakily grabbed a pack of Marlboro’s off of the glass table placed in the corner of the balcony where Jack and her spent most of their time retelling the day’s events to each other and drinking a few beers. She lit the cigarette and placed it between her lips, inhaling deeply. She exhaled with a sigh, watching the smoke escape from her mouth. Sitting down, she massaged her temples. So, the bastard supposedly had a psychopathic fiancée. What pissed her off more? The fact that he had a fiancée or that his fiancée was a psycho? She wanted to punch herself. She hated being jealous. But jealous of what? That stuffy man in there? Crazy! She just met him like what, an hour ago? Ah, she knew why she was jealous. She wanted to fuck him. His muscles had been peeking out left and right in that stuffy suit of his, and she was upset cause he was going home to fuck another broad. A broad who could claim him.

Damn. Life was a bitch.