Episode 88

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Episode 88

Scene 1:

Turning the page, Jillie lifted her coffee mug to her lips, taking a small sip of the mocha hazelnut blend. For some reason, the newest summer trends and the 'Top Ten Secrets You Never Want to Tell Your Lover' weren't really captivating her attention this morning.

The little college oriented coffee shop/book store on the North side of the campus wasn't one of her usual hangouts, but she'd been spending more and more time away from the hustle and bustle of downtown. It was a survival instinct, Jillie told herself. She could handle working for Rick, but the idea of running into the happy couple elsewhere was still stomach churning.
Besides, the place let you sit around and drink coffee while you perused their literary works without having to buy them. What was better than that?

God, she was becoming one of those boring people. Jory wasn't going to let her live this down. Pushing her slim wire-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of her nose, she turned to people watching from behind the pages of her magazine. She had a brief flash of longing, wishing she'd brought her camera with her, but it passed. All too often these days she found herself with less and less time to spend behind the lens. But, some sacrifices had to be made. She was living on her own now, and that meant she needed the stability of her job.

Didn't mean she had to like it, though.

Her eyes strayed to a young woman feeding her infant a few tables away. Judging from the pile of texts stacked atop the table, Jillie assumed the woman was a student. Her thoughts took a turn she didn't like, back to her older sister. Could she see Maura like that? Juggling all of her martyring responsibilities and a child?

Her attention shifted and was caught by the broad outline of a man at the cash register. For a moment her heart seemed to stop, and she resisted the urge to slink down in her seat and hide behind the pages of her magazine. Until she realized that despite the dark hair and the way he moved with a certain assuredness, he really didn't resemble Rick at all. God, what was the man doing to her?

She breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. The customer turned towards the door, and she once again fought the urge to hide. Almost as if they held a tracking beacon, those dark eyes pinpointed her in the crowd of patrons, and he seemed to smile, as if he could sense her discomfort.

There was no way this Leo and the other Leo were one in the same. This Leo was entirely too good-looking and smug for his own good. He changed his course and headed towards her table, and Jillie sat up straighter. She may have wanted to crawl under her chair, but that didn't mean she was going to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

"Jillian," he greeted when he was near enough, his voice deep and dark and rich. Like chocolate. But not as sweet.

"Jillie," she corrected stubbornly, looking up at him.

"Glasses," he said, sitting down without being invited. "I didn't know you wore glasses. So the legendary Jillian Conlan isn't one hundred percent perfect after all?"

She arched a brow, drawing the glasses off, having forgotten they were there. "For reading," Jillie told him, not knowing why she felt the need to explain. "And no one's perfect." He seemed amused by the sentiment, or was it merely because it came from her? Clenching her jaw, Jillie met his gaze defiantly. "I assume you think otherwise?"

"You assume too much. Always have."

"You don't know me."

"Don't I? Pardon me for saying, but you've never been especially...deep."

Anger rolled over her in barely constrained waves. But anger was an emotion she was familiar with, unlike the confusion he usually inspired. Leaning back in her chair, a sly smile played over her pink lips. "Really? I've never had complaints with how...deep...I can be."

"That doesn't surprise me, considering the people you associate with."

"Are you saying I couldn't accommodate you? I'm a very flexible person."

"I don't doubt that, but I really wasn't talking about your sexual exploits, many though they must be." Something darkened in his face, but it passed quickly. And just as quickly, he stood up. "It's too bad I can't stay and indulge your ego. I have a class."

"You're a student?" Jillie asked, surprised both by the idea and by his abruptness.

Leo laughed. "No. I teach. I'm a professor here. At the college?" he added at her dumbfounded look. "But I'm sure I'll be seeing you again. You still owe me."

Scene 2:

Stephen Roth was right on time, Jude noted catching his gaze. He nodded and pointed to a booth in the back of the diner. This hadn't been the place he wanted to meet but Roth had insisted on someplace far away from the Masons and this was pretty far indeed. They met at the booth and shook hands, Jude wary of Roth's intentions. He had been vague to say the least.

"Thank you for coming, Jude. I appreciate it...especially on such short notice," Stephen said as they made themselves comfortable. Jude shrugged offering a noncommittal smile.

"It was about time I joined the world of the living," he replied easily, distracted for a moment. From where he sat, he had a pretty good view of the bar and Maura had reappeared there, shaken but composed. Damn, he did miss her, he thought watching her smile gamely at Danny McKeown.

"Been in hiding, I guess," Stephen was saying. Jude switched his attention back to Roth and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah...I am sorry to have done that to you."

"You didn't. Gwen did. Though I do wish you'd picked a more private function to announce...what?" He asked catching the bemused expression on Roth's face.

"That is exactly what Jamie said."

"You've been to see him?" Jude asked curiously.

"Yes...I had business with him." Jude nodded and opened his mouth to say something when he saw Maura approach them with menus in hand.

"Hello," she said to Roth, offering him a menu. "Sorry about the noise today, St. Patrick's starts earlier and earlier every year." She turned to Jude and smiled wanly. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Coffee," he answered trying not to sound too familiar. Maura nodded and turned to Stephen who asked for the same. She smiled again and turned away leaving them. He watched her walk away, annoyed with himself for agreeing to meet at Connie's. He should have known how difficult it would be. But then, he had wanted to see Maura...

"Perhaps I should have picked a different restaurant," Stephen said as if he could read Jude's thoughts.

"No, this is fine," Jude returned sharply. "Now, what is it you wanted to discuss?" Stephen smiled and opened his briefcase, extracting a large file and laying it in front of Jude. Raising an inquiring eyebrow, Jude opened it carefully, noting what appeared to be a design layout of a city block. There were several restaurants, each marked with a different theme, a number of bars and dance clubs, a hotel off to the side, taking up a chunk of the block, and in the center, what Jude assumed was the centerpiece, a park. He flipped to the next page and studied an artists' rendering of the landscaped park.

"And this is?" He asked, continuing to look at the file.

"The next hotspot in Conlan's Glen. I've taken to calling the Project. Mostly because that's what it is. But I haven't settled on a real name for it."

"I see...and what exactly is it and what does it have to do with me?"

"Glad you asked. The Project is a commercial development comprised of several night clubs, restaurants, boutiques, and a hotel all aimed at pulling in tourists and locals. You, I hope, will want to be a part of this."

"Why me though?"

"Well, I have the money to do this, but not the connections or the public persona. You do. I need you to make this work. The city council won't go for it on my say so."

"If you want advice, I can give you..."

"No, I want you. Jude, I'm offering you a third of this venture. I owe it to you and I...I need your expertise. I can't force you into it, but here, take this..." He dug into his briefcase for another file. "These are the financials and the business plan for it. Take them home, study them. And let me know. But Jude, I have to know by the first of April. That's when city council meets again. I need this approved to get building on it by May."

"All right," Jude sighed. "I'll look at it. But I can't promise anything." There were no guarantees anymore.

Scene 3:

Leo walked through the house, not bothering to turn on the lights. They were the same steps he'd taken as a child, and somehow every shadow, every creak on the old wooden boards, was indelibly marked upon his memory. This was the house he'd grown up in. The house he'd claimed upon moving back to the Glen.

Unbuttoning his shirt, he climbed the stairs to his bedroom - the room that had once belonged to his mother and father. But they had both passed away years ago, releasing him of any business he had in Conlan's Glen. Until now.

Stepping into his bathroom, he opened the cabinet above the sink and took out his contacts, replacing them with a pair of black frame glasses - the only remnant of a life he thought he'd left behind. But then he'd seen her again, and suddenly he'd been twelve years younger and a bumbling idiot.

She was unmistakable. The flaxen hair; the large, piercing blue eyes. The willowy body with tantalizing curves, that did indeed bring images to mind of a high degree of flexibility. A liquid dream come to life. That was Jillian Conlan.

"Stupid," he muttered, gripping the edge of the sink until his knuckles turned white. The last thing he should have been thinking about was her. She was a part of his past. A part he'd tried to forget over the last several years. And he'd moved on. If he still carried a little grudge, that was understandable, wasn't it? She'd made his life a living hell.

So why was he thinking about how disgustingly adorable she'd appeared in her glasses? Why was he thinking about the way her body seemed to melt as soon as her eyes took on that devilish glint? Why was he thinking about her "accommodating" him?

"Snap out of it," Leo told himself. "Jillian Conlan isn't worth the hassle. She never has been, never will be."

And yet, he was taking every opportunity to be with her. Even if it was only to rile her up. But that was just to keep her on edge, he told himself. He wasn't really planning on seeing her again.
Was he?

Scene 4:

Piper ignored the pain that shot through her. Her bleeding arm. The skin of her thinly-covered, stocking feet tearing upon contact of sharp twigs and hard leaves. The ground was cold enough that soon the bottom of her feet were numb. The green taffeta kept ripping and tearing, slowing her pace. Frequently, Piper was forced to stop and rip herself loose from a clingy branch. And what had happened up to the time before she woke up in a mysterious bed flashed in her frantic mind. Chase pulling her away from the safety of public eyes, placing something over her mouth that smelled strangely...some sort of chemical...then, nothing. Exhausted, Piper paused for air, sucking the sharp, cold air into her lungs. The cold air burned against the warmth of her lungs and she choked.

As her hands slid across the slick, satiny material of the dress, desperate for a sense of balance, the feeling of the taffeta began to make Piper physically ill. The minty green taffeta reminded her of the insanity looming in Chase's eyes. Piper threw up. Then, she decided to get the hell out of the dress.

"Get the fuck off me!" Piper screamed into a non-responsive cluster of trees. Finally, Piper managed to work herself out of the dress, ripping it into shreds in the process, and then she dumped it on the ground. Now the only thing keeping her warm in the damp night air was a thin, white slip. But, Piper felt numb to everything, the air, the wilderness, the darkness, all she felt at the moment was fury...mostly directed at herself.

A rustle. Piper didn't care if it was Chase or a raccoon, she took off. Stealing a glance behind her, the mansion lights were swiftly fading in prominence. All she had now was herself and the cell phone. She clutched onto it as though it were her life source. It was. Soon, her legs began to shake and tremble under the pressure of each step and the impact of the unforgiving ground. Unforgiving of her stupidity and denial. Piper felt as though she couldn't go on. She knew the road was fairly close, but images of horror movies and the psycho coming up out of nowhere to overpower his STUPID victim danced in her head. Then, like a guiding light (though no light came from it) was a small hut. Probably one of the former slave cabins from the 1800s.

The door gave way easily under her light bodyweight and Piper fell with a thud on the floor. Her whole body was numb, one dull ache. Phone. Call Noah. If only Piper's thoughts could only cohere into incomplete sentences. It took all concentration and remnants of strength to pry her fingers off the phone, then dial the number to Noah's apartment. God. Be there. Noah. Be there.