| Russian Roulette |

Kuno

Django Jane
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. One post per day
  2. 1-3 posts per week
  3. One post per week
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
  4. Prestige
  5. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. No Preferences
Genres
Fantasy, Sci fi, Romance, Historical, Modern, Supernatural
JAXON ORTEGA



Time: 10:35 p.m. Location: Duke’s Nightclub

It was perhaps the biggest birthday bash Jaxon had ever thrown. The neon-lit nightclub was crammed wall-to-wall with gyrating bodies as ditzy pop and hip hop music blasted incessantly from the speakers. The birthday girl could not get enough of it. Awash in hues of pink and blue, she and her squad danced in the center of the venue in impossibly-high heels. She was Jessica Gilhooly--one of the wealthiest female debutantes in the city of Chicago. And, inexplicably, one of Jaxon’s biggest clients for poker. He liked to keep all his customers happy; so when she’d begged him to let her throw her party in his ritzy establishment, how could he refuse? Nevermind the fact that he’d get the chance to make connections with all her rich friends as well. And he could watch all the action quite nicely from his perch in the V.I.P. balcony. Overlooking the entire nightclub, it featured its own private dining area and plush lounge seating, where Jaxon currently sat sipping his drink idly. It was a good vantage point to look out for people of interest.

Or for others to look out for him.

“So tell me about that deal again. Is Jared still screwing with my girls?”

Jaxon’s eyes slid lazily in his client’s direction. His client--a heavy set, bespectacled man by the name of Mr. Bryant--leaned forward, waiting expectantly for his answer. He was a rather funny character once you got to know him. Mr. Bryant claimed to be a devout Christian, so much so that he wouldn’t even let himself use swear words. But the amount of affairs he had had on his wife were more than Jaxon could count on both hands. All the girls were provided by Jaxon, of course. Mr. Bryant’s current woman lay draped across his shoulder, her blue-painted eyelids heavy with sleep. The alcohol had taken her out only moments ago. Jaxon snapped his fingers at her, and she jerked awake, her form visibly straightening.

“You know I don’t talk business at parties,” Jaxon finally answered, bringing Mr. Bryant’s attention back to him.

Bull. You do it all the time.”

“Maybe.” His gaze sharpened on the older man. “What the hell do you care about Jared for?”

As Mr. Bryant launched into yet another tirade about Jared f*cking Mr. Bryant’s favorite whores, Jaxon knocked back a shot of tequila and surveyed the crowd around them. There were a lot of people in the crowd that he didn’t know.

Any one of them could be out to kill him.

“I’m going to the bar.” Rising abruptly from his seat, Jaxon smoothed down his black formal shirt and cast the amorous duo a polite smile. “Try not to have too much fun while I’m gone.”

Mr. Bryant looked affronted. “But-”

All it took was one quelling look to get him to clamp his mouth shut like a fish. Jaxon always portrayed himself as kind, but he was a man known not to take kindly being second-guessed. He could tell his reputation had preceded him. Smirking a bit, Jaxon jerked his head towards one of his bodyguards to follow him.

And then he was gone, moving steadily through the throngs of people like a shadow.

@Karo
 
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CLARISSE ELLISON-HYDE




Time:
10:37 p.m. Location: Duke’s Nightclub

She had to admit, she was pretty impressed. Standing off to the side of the dancefloor, Clarisse took in the scene before her. A sea of scantily clad and sweaty bodies spread out in front of her, men and women alike mashing themselves into each other with a palpable hunger. The center point of the party- made obvious by the glitzy, pageant-sized crown towering upon her head- was continuously tipping back shot after shot as she danced, oblivious to the steady stream of vodka spilling from the glasses and onto her top. Everything was loud, in-your-face, and glaringly extravagant.

Running her finger around the edge of her glass, Clarisse shifted uncomfortably. She wasn’t used to staying so…out of character. Dressed in a tight but relatively modest black dress and comparatively stubby heels, Clarisse seemed less femme fatale and more, well, Clarisse. Anyone with half a mind to look could tell she was out of place, a fact that made Clarisse sickeningly uneasy. Having spent the entirety of her career hiding in plain sight, everything about her situation seemed so wrong.

And so vulnerable.

But, there was a purpose behind this strange deviation from the norm. While most assignments called for some variant of the mysterious seductress, it would take a lot more (and somehow a lot less) to snare this target. Just this once, Clarisse had to remove her mask and return to a version of herself she had avoided since she left her hometown more than a decade ago. It was the hardest job she’d ever done.

Knocking back the last of her drink, Clarisse glanced at the balcony above her, her eyes fixating immediately on Jaxon. He hadn’t changed a bit- in appearance at least. But aside from his familiar face, he was far from the boy she knew from her past. There was a certain power in his stance, an aura of intimidation and strength that could only be earned by turning your back on your morals and, by extent, your own humanity. It was almost funny, in a sad sort of way, how despite the drastically different paths they took they ended up in the same city in the same vile world with the same sinful weight on their shoulders. You couldn't write a better story.

She watched with calculating eyes as Jaxon exited the balcony and began making his way through the crowd. She followed his gaze to the fully stocked bar about 30 meters away, where a crew of sharply dressed bartenders dutifully served drinks to a group of inebriated and noisy party-goers. At the other end of the bar sat a row of unoccupied stools, where a lone bartender wiped down his counter and gathered empty glasses. Perfect. Without hesitation, Clarisse made her way to one of the empty barstools. If she knew Jaxon, she knew he would do whatever possible to avoid any unnecessary annoyances; drawing him right into her trap.

Arriving at the bar, Clarisse draped her arms over the chair back with a sigh before flashing the server a tired but affable smile. “Could I get an Americano?” As the bartender nodded and got started on her drink, she took a seat and began absentmindedly tracing her nails in small loops along the counter.
 
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JAXON ORTEGA



Location: Duke’s Nightclub


Unfortunately for Jaxon, his trek to the bar did not go uninterrupted.

“Jaxon! Jaxon, baby!”

It was the birthday girl. Silently cursing himself for getting in her line of sight, Jaxon waited warily as she stumbled over to him, her body sloppily hanging against his once there.

“Jaxon, baby, bring me a drink,” Jessica cooed in his ear. Her breath told of countless other drinks already poured down her gullet. He eyed her carefully.

“Take it easy,” He advised, “You still got a party to enjoy, ya know?” Not to mention that if things got too out of control, he’d have to shut it down. Business was business, after all.

Thankfully, Jessica was still sober enough to comprehend. “Mm, sure. Thanks baby.”

“No problem. I’ll get you a drink.”

The pretty brunette planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “Thanks Jaxon.”

Uncoiling from his side, Jessica teetered off back into the masses. Jaxon watched blankly as she left. He would get her a martini first, and see how she took it. If she couldn’t handle that, then he’d have to have the bartender cut her off. He hoped for her sake that it didn’t have to come to that. Shaking his head, Jaxon spun on his heel and once more began approaching the bar, weaving his way between dancing bodies.

The music was far more subdued over by the bar. People tended to gravitate there when they wanted to talk business. On the right end of the bar, the area was packed with people, the bartenders scurrying back and forth as they tried to fill each order. Jaxon frowned. Typical. He was about to return to the balcony bar when he caught sight of a vacated end of the bar serviced by only one bartender. His eyes flickered from the sole woman sitting there to the line of empty barstools. In the next moment, he was moving. Quickly, mind you, before the crowd at the other end of the bar wisened up and redistributed themselves around the counter. Taking a seat two seats down from the other customer, he paid no heed to her as he gestured a to the bartender. His employee smiled politely at him.

“Hey, Mr. Ortega. What can I get for you?”

Jaxon shrugged. “Eh, the usual. And an apple martini, for the birthday girl. And uh…”

He spun in his seat to face the other woman seated close by him. His eyes struggled to make out her features in the dim lighting. “You can get this lady here whatever she wants too, Ray. It’s on the…” He stopped as a flicker of light suddenly outlined the woman’s face in full.

Jaxon felt as if he’d been smacked by a train. Dressed in a modest black dress and conservative heels, a young woman of considerable beauty sat before him, her chestnut brown hair primed and curled to perfection. She was no stranger to him. Her face was a perfect reflection of the one he’d so often kissed ten or so years ago. Her eyes held secrets, a past that Jaxon hadn’t reflected on in so long, it almost felt surreal to remember it now. His eyes widened in shock. This is…

“Claire?” He breathed. This time, he could not be bothered to hide the shock on his face. “What...what are you doing here?”
 
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CLARISSE ELLISON-HYDE




Location: Duke’s Nightclub

Although Clarisse was careful not to look directly in Jaxon’s direction, she couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of him and the birthday girl in her peripheral vision. As the drunken deb practically climbed all over him, Clarisse couldn’t help but briefly wonder about the nature of their relationship. She knew she was a client of his and Jaxon’s body language alone suggested he was entirely disinterested in her, but she still felt uncertain. As the girl planted a drunken kiss on his cheek, she felt a twinge of disgust run through her, before she dug the edge of her heel into her calf. Focus. He’s your target, stop acting like a child.

As Jaxon scoped out the bar, Clarisse shifted her gaze downwards, focusing on her nails. They had long been shed of their cherry red acrylics, exposing the short, bitten nails underneath. It was a habit she’d carried since adolescence, still unable to kick it despite her best efforts. The past few weeks had been especially disastrous, as she wrecked havoc upon her nails in apprehension of the coming days. With any other assignment this would work against her, but now it only helped to pull together the image of the young girl that Jaxon had fallen in love with all those years ago.

Now, as she watched from the corner of her eyes as he took a seat only two stools down from her, she began to feel her heart pound against her chest. Her stomach turned and she once again had to drag the sharp end of her heel across her skin. Without a mask to hide behind or a character to play, Clarisse struggled to stifle her anxiety. It was nerve-racking enough to sit that close to a mark, much less one she'd had a long and intimate relationship with. Returning to her nails, she began to repeat her cover story in her head.

“Claire?”

Clarisse quickly turned her head towards Jaxon, as if she hadn’t expected to hear her own name at any point that night. She laughed slightly in faux disbelief, an incredulous smile creeping across her face. “Jaxon?” She exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. “I could ask you the same thing!” she joked, smiling at him somewhat nervously. She was silent for a moment as she fully took him in, drinking in every detail. Their proximity allowed her to notice small features she had missed when viewing him on the balcony. His face, while not aged, clearly showed maturity, having lost all signs of the mild baby face he used to have. His eyes almost seemed darker, though she couldn’t determine if that was because of the low-lighting or not. But most noticeably, she could see a certain steeliness in them, one that melted away the longer they looked at each other. Finally, she spoke again, her voice a soft hum. “How- how are you?”
 
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JAXON ORTEGA



Location: Duke’s Nightclub

Was it really Claire in front of him?

Now that she had turned to face him fully, Jaxon allowed himself a moment of vulnerability and stared unabashedly at the woman. The memories of years past faded and coalesced into the prim, polished face of Claire, whose vibrant brown eyes filled with recognition at the sight of him.

“Jaxon?” Her voice was an echo of the past. Light and feminine, she seemed to laugh a bit at the situation. She petered off into silence, eyes lost in thought as she looked at the man across from her.

Jaxon’s expression perfectly mirrored her own.

As she smiled prettily at him, all teeth, he studied her intensely. Claire was jarringly out of place in that heathenish nightclub. She was all clean smiles and niceties; her modest dress and attitude almost entirely unsuited for the night life. Especially this night life. Which brought him to his foremost question: how the hell did someone like her get in?

Everyone in the criminal underworld knew what went down at Duke’s Nightclub. Everyone outside the criminal underworld at least knew some semblance of its insidious nature. The smart ones had the good sense to stay away. Others? Jaxon’s eyes rested briefly on the pockets of unknown people strewn throughout the club. Others were just too oblivious to know the difference. But tonight had been carefully planned. Even though it was an open invite, everyone knew who was throwing the party. That left the party-goers divided into three areas: (1) Jessica’s friends and family (2) Jaxon’s associates and (3) Jaxon’s rivals. But in that, there was a discrepancy. As his eyes fell on the classy form of his former lover, Jaxon found himself at a loss for an answer to an even bigger question.

But where did Claire fit into this?

It felt odd thinking about her in such a detached manner. Ten years and three assassination attempts tended to do that to a person. Or maybe it was just his f*cked up feelings kicking in again. The bartender approached then with his apple martini and a Manhattan. Pushing the martini to the side for Jessica, Jaxon took a sip of the Manhattan, letting the acrid taste of whiskey wash down his throat.

The low sound of Claire’s voice finally broke the silence. “How-how are you?” She inquired innocently. How am I, she asks. Where to even begin?

His mouth slowly spread into a sly grin. “Well damn. What are the odds? You f*cking fly off the radar ten years ago and now all of a sudden here you are, at a f*cking club of all places,” He replied brashly. His voice sounded foreign to his own ears. Gritty and off-color, it was not the tone he usually took with other people.

But Clarisse Ellison-Hyde was not other people.

His gaze shifting briefly to the drinks placed before him, Jaxon leaned against the marble finish of the bar counter.

“How am I?” He repeated, cutting his eyes at Claire. “That’s gonna be a pretty lengthy answer. Not sure if this is the place for it, ya know? Besides...I’m more interested in how you came to know about this place. Didn’t really think clubs were your kind of thing. But hey.” He shrugged. “None of my business. Must be on some date, yeah?”

“You know there’s a lot of gang activity here, right?” Though his face was pleasant enough, there was a note of warning in his tone. He watched her carefully, gauging her reaction. Seeing if the news would actually surprise her.

Or maybe not.

 
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CLARISSE ELLISON-HYDE




Location: Duke’s Nightclub

Woah, where is this coming from?
Clarisse had expected some hostility, but this was way more than she could have predicted. The aftermath of her departure wasn’t something she had concerned herself with; at the time, it was too painful to consider. Though she had spent years toying with the idea of running away, she didn’t cement the courage to do so until two years before. She began squirreling away what money she could get and carefully mapping her every move. While applying to colleges, she kept her applications to Barnard, Hofstra, and NYU a secret- and when decision time came around, she intercepted the mail before her mother could get to it. She bought the plane ticket months in advance and enrolled in the first school that accepted her. Ultimately, she decided that no one should know. They couldn’t. She needed to escape that world, that life, and part of that included cutting off contact with everyone within it. And that included Jaxon.

Now, as she had to face the results of her desertion, she hesitated, both caught off guard and unsure how to proceed. Instinct said to defuse the situation, but outside of work, Clarisse had never been one to shy away from confrontation. If she was going to convince him that she was still the Claire he knew and remembered, she would have to throw all caution to the wind. “Wait a minute- are you mad at me?”, she asked incredulously, laughing in disbelief. “Look, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t tell anyone. I wasn’t taking any risks.” Her voice had changed to counter his, taking on a firm and reprimanding tone. As she slipped more and more into her own personality, she found her words flowing more easily. But her barrier was still up; she couldn’t fall too far into her character, nor did she want to. She wasn’t being herself; she was playing herself.

Her eyes lingered on Jaxon for a moment, before the clink of the bartender placing her drink in front of her caused her to tear them away, flitting to the tall, cylindrical glass placed before her. Clearing her throat, she took hold of the glass with her free hand, still off-put by the whole situation. She stared at its contents intently, watching the small ice cubes swirl in the red liquid. There was a noticeable tension in the air.

“Must be on some date, yeah?”

Clarisse took a sip from her drink, using the moment to review her cover one last time. “Yeah, actually,” she retorted with a dry laugh, looking out in the crowd as if in search of someone. “This wasn’t my venue of choice, but he insisted.” With a sigh, she took another drink and gave the crowd one last cursory glance, before returning to the slowly shrinking ice within her cup.

“You know there’s a lot of gang activity here, right?”

She nodded. “I had a feeling,” she murmured, her hand creeping to the small pendant resting on her collarbone. “Trev-, ‘T’ never really told me what he does, but I think I've started to put two and two together.” Her mention of Trevor Gillican- better known to his associates as T-Grizz- was brief, but she was certain Jaxon would catch it. He was a familiar associate of the Templets, and infamous for his short temper and violent tendencies. What’s more, he had a well-known affinity for taking clean-cut girls who were down on their luck under his wing, whereupon he would buy their affections with extravagant gifts, before forcing them into prostitution to pay off their “debts.” And if his name didn’t catch his attention, the diamonds around her neck certainly would- T gifted every one of his girls a diamond necklace with the same triangular symbol. She had easily bought it off one of his battered and drug-addicted prostitutes, who was glad to make the trade in return for a handful of hydrocodone. Now, she fiddled with it uncomfortably, causing it to glint continuously under the roaming lights of the club.

She continued like that for a moment before a certain understanding seemed to come over her, her gaze slowly shifting to Jaxon. Her eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down, scrutinizing everything from his clothing to his posture. Allowing herself to relive the initial shock and strange satisfaction she had felt upon reading his case file made the realization that spread across her face seem completely genuine, and as her eyes widened and her back straightened, the connection she had made was clear.

Now to see if he believed it.
 
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JAXON ORTEGA



Location: Duke’s Nightclub



Claire was exactly as how he’d remembered. Stubborn, unflappable, and absolutely ballsy. He stared blankly at her as her words fired up to meet his, the startled look on her face quickly morphing into one of defiance. He looked at the way her slim shoulders squared up, firm and strong.

He told himself it was keenness that made his eyes linger, not saudade.

Are you mad at me? she’d asked. Was he? He was never one to have a temper. Even when she’d left, he’d felt more of a hollow ache than anything else. Like a piece of him had gone, a piece he hadn’t even realized was there.

In the brief silence that followed his last question, Claire seemed reflective as she answered. Mentioning her suspicions about her boyfriend’s line of work, she seemed to suddenly have a moment of realization as she looked at him. As she realized just what kind of person he’d become in her absence. But it was not the look she gave him that caught his attention--after all, she was bound to find out eventually. Jaxon had long since squashed any feelings of guilt and shame that he had about his business. Who gave a damn, anyways? It was the name of her boyfriend that made him squint his eyes at her. Just one letter, like an imbecile. T.

At first, he did not understand.

“T?” He repeated dumbly. T? Who the hell was that? His eyes flickered down to the necklace at Claire’s breast. Her fingers played continuously with it, turning it over again and again in the dimmed lighting of the bar. At some point she paused, and in that instant, his eyes latched onto the unmistakable symbol of a diamond Templet triangle.

He saw. Two and two were put together as he sat staring, momentarily paralyzed by the news. Trevor, better known as T-Grizz, a stupid ass pimp name that he’d hated as soon as he’d heard it.

“Huh. A date.” He felt wound up tighter than a drawstring. He knew what that meant. Trevor never took his girls out on a date without a consequence. Deeper and deeper the girls would spin down the rabbit hole, until it was too late. Far, far too late. Jaxon brought his eyes up to Claire’s face. He told himself that what he was about to say next was not out of concern, but just a general warning. A warning he would give to anyone in her position.

The blood roaring in his ears sang of his lie.

“Listen, uh...I see you’re doing your own thing and all that but I’d stay away from Trevor if I were you. He likes to take girls like you and you know…” He shrugged. “String them out, you know? Turn them into whores and have them f*cking men all night. Beats them too, just for shits and giggles. That’s why he’s so nice to you now. That’s why he, uh--” He gestured loosely at her necklace “--gave you that little dog tag there. Because he’s a pimp.”

Jaxon smiled nonchalantly, as if to take away the sting of his words. As if he hadn’t just shattered the pristine image Trevor had no doubt presented to her. He knew how the game worked; he could only wonder what he was passing himself off as now. A stock broker? A real estate agent? Some goody two-shoes businessman with a nice, wholesome life? Trevor could be a good con artist when it meant turning a profit, sometimes a little too good. Whatever it took to snag his victims.

“I know this because I work with with him,” Jaxon admitted readily, no punches pulled. His eyes were black and lifeless.

“You want my advice? Leave out of here and break it off with the little prick in the morning. He’s got other girls, no worries; he can swallow the loss.”

The icy cheer in his voice was chillingly deceptive. He tried to smile again, but he couldn’t; his eyes were transfixed on the diamond triangle. He saw more than just a symbol in its sheen. He saw dead prostitutes with bloated lips, eyes wide and clouded as their hands clutched onto crack pipes. He heard the sickly sweet voice of underage girls as they tried desperately to seduce men, even as their busted lips and black eyes turned most away. The overdoses. The beatings. And with that necklace on, he imagined Claire too, just for a second--

Jaxon’s eyes swept over the crowd abruptly. There were a lot at the party tonight, so it was no surprise to him that he didn’t see T right away. But still; he hunted for him all the same.
 
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CLARISSE ELLISON-HYDE




Location: Duke’s Nightclub

As Jaxon ‘informed’ her of what she already knew, she felt a rush of adrenaline and a distinct pulling in her stomach. It was something she hadn’t felt in years, and something she naively hoped she wouldn’t feel this time around. She was nervous, and she couldn’t stand it. Normally, the acting was the easy part. Crafting the story, manipulating her target; that was what she did best. Of course, it had been ridiculous to pretend this job would be the same. With someone she knew so well- who knew her so well- she couldn’t push away the uncertainty and almost guilt she felt.

Clarisse took in a deep breath, then let out a sharp laugh. Taking a long drink from her glass, she continued to feign amusement, lightly shaking her head as though she had just been told a cheesy and disappointing joke. She lowered the drink back onto the bar with an exaggerated flourish, before turning her head back to Jaxon. Grinning earnestly at him, she leaned in ever so slightly as if she expected him to break under her gaze and laugh with her. However, the blank look in his eyes seemed to confirm her fears. She allowed her smile to melt slowly off her face.

“You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding.” Her words reeked of desperation.

“Shit.” She slowly lowered her head into her hands, staring lifelessly at the bar counter beneath her. Showtime. “Jaxon… I don’t know if I can leave. I don’t have anywhere else to go.” It didn’t take much to get the tears rolling; at this point, she was a pro at it. After a decade of conning her way into the hearts and homes of men, she had mastered her craft. Still, she kept her face hidden. She’d never been one to show emotion to others; it was embarrassing and made her too vulnerable. Jaxon, however, had been a different story. As she forced tears from her eyes, she couldn’t help but remember all those times she had cracked in front of him, letting years of repressed emotions spew forth. She remembered how he would hold her and push the hair from her face, how he'd draw her eyes closed with his thumbs and lightly kiss them. Those memories had once been bittersweet, but now they left only an acrid taste in her mouth.

Finally, she turned her head and locked eyes with Jaxon. “I.. things haven’t been going well for me lately. I don’t have a job, I can’t pay my bills… he’s the only reason I'm not on the streets. He’s been paying my rent for the past month.” She choked back a sob, biting the insides of her cheek to force her face to flush with faux embarrassment. “He had been so sweet. He told me he was going to take care of me, get me back on my feet… and you know, I knew something was off with him. From the moment I met him. I just didn’t- I couldn’t-” She swiped at her eyes, blackening them with wet mascara. "I'm so fucking stupid... I don’t know what to do.”

As much as she hated dissolving into such a pathetic mess, she knew it would elicit a reaction from Jaxon. That is if she was right to assume he still felt something for her, even after all these years and her abandonment. If he did, then she was pushing all the right buttons. If he didn’t, then she’d have to resort to a plan B she, for once, didn’t have.
 
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JAXON ORTEGA



Location: Duke’s Nightclub


“Jesus, Claire! What the fuck?”

The chagrined words were the only display of emotion from him. As Clarisse had broke down in tears before him, Jaxon had been the picture of poised stoicism, his eyes shocked as they watched his former lover. It was always this way with him. When he was truly caught off-guard, his whole body tended to lock up, seizing at the sudden stimulus. One of the few signs of his own internal unraveling was the line of drinks he had successively downed in the time he’d been speaking with Claire. His face was flushed from the heat of the moment. He was thoroughly discombobulated.

“Claire...Christ. Take it easy.” He didn’t know what else to say. A woman crying in front of him was nothing new, but Claire? Crying in front of him? In public? Ten years ago, Claire would have died before showing her vulnerabilities in the open like that. Bewildered, he tried to count the amount of drinks she’d had. She clearly was not drunk.

He decided to voice his thoughts. Like a true gentleman.

“What do you want from me? Huh? Money? I thought that’s why you left, right? You went after a good education and a good job, but now your ass is sitting here crying to me. What happened to that?”

He was aware of how petulant he sounded, but he honestly couldn’t give less of a damn. He was not obligated to give her anything, not his time, not his money, not his goddamn feelings. The emotions swirling in him were building to an angry roar. He was angry; angry at her, angry at the situation, and furious that just by shedding a few tears, Claire was devolving him back into the love-lost boy from so many years ago. Disoriented--and a bit inebriated--Jaxon reached over and knocked back another drink.

“Boss?”

“What?” Jaxon snapped, spinning to face the bartender who addressed him. The man’s eyes peered nervously at him.

“Everything ok, boss?” The man looked from him to the girl, before somewhere behind them. Jaxon’s eyes followed his line of sight, until he saw what he was looking at: a line of bouncers that he’d personally hired to throw out violent patrons and overly drunk customers. Or simply unruly persons in general.

He knew then what he was really asking.

Jaxon bristled at the implications. “She’s fine. You worry about your damn drinks.”

The bartender wisely turned away back to his unfinished dishes. Unfortunately, the bartender had unknowingly made a good point. Jaxon and Claire were making a scene; he was sober enough, at least, to recognize that. We’ll just have to leave, then, he thought decidedly. Because he knew, despite all his brashness, despite everything that had happened, that he was not going to abandon her.

“Claire,” Jaxon began, clearing his throat. Her mascara was beginning to run from her tears. Without thinking, he grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the black marks on her cheeks, his movements clumsy and slow from the alcohol. His phone began to ring in his pocket. Without tearing his eyes away from her, Jaxon reached into his pocket and silenced it with some force. After some time, it began to vibrate with texts. Jaxon ignored that too, for the moment.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here. I’ll take you somewhere nice to eat and we can...talk. Figure something out. Get you somewhere to stay for the night.” His expression softened some. “For old time’s sake.”

@Karo
 
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CLARISSE ELLISON-HYDE




Location: Duke’s Nightclub

Her assumption was right.

Jaxon was getting drunker by the second, and it was clear she had struck a chord with him. While his face and body had turned to stone, the growing number of glasses on the bar betrayed him. Alcohol had always been his answer to situations like this. There were few things he could not handle, but he always drowned his senses to escape the exceptions.

His outburst was a good sign. Really, it didn’t matter what emotions he felt towards Claire, so long as he felt something. While frustration wasn’t ideal, it was something she could work with. Still, she had taken a big risk. She could only hope the reward now would still be worth it in the long run.

Though the game had been difficult at first, she was quickly settling into her new skin. Claire and Clarisse were beginning to work well together, with Claire providing the performance and Clarisse feeding her the lines. She felt a sense of satisfaction that quickly dispelled any uncertainty she had before. It was with this increased confidence that Claire bristled and spat out the only logical response to his hostility.

“Fuck you."

"I told you I had to leave. You think I left to live the high life?” she hissed, shuddery breaths interrupting every other word. As she stared indignantly into his eyes, she contemplated her next move. This was familiar to her. They may have loved each other, but given her stubborn nature, arguments weren’t uncommon. She was more than comfortable meeting him eye to eye in enmity.

She watched carefully as he downed his fifth (or sixth) drink, allowing a somewhat tense silence to hang in the air. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the bartender approaching, a worried look on his face. Clarisse knew they were drawing attention, and it seemed Jaxon knew it too. While the chances of anybody recognizing her were slim, she still felt exposed under the many stares in her direction. For the entirety of her career, she had never stopped changing her appearance. Now, so far removed from the femme fatale she often played, she was almost unrecognizable, but not completely. Someone who was familiar with her work, who had been able to follow her throughout the many disguises and characters she’d played, who had pinpointed the woman whose kiss left men dead and secrets lost, that someone could ruin this job completely. She could only hope such a person didn’t exist and didn’t happen to be in the right place at just the right time.

She began to dig in her purse as though searching for a tissue, keeping her head down and allowing her hair to hide her face. It was only once Jaxon had dismissed the bartender that she raised her head. She considered what she wanted to say next, before she was interrupted by him abruptly reaching out and clumsily attempting to remove the dark tears rolling down her cheeks. At first she stiffened, but slowly relaxed as she scrutinized his worried face. It was almost comical, in a way. His expression seemed so serious, but his slow and fumbling movements removed any semblance of the certain and calculating man Jaxon Ortega was.

Slowly, she reached up to touch his hand, her fingers resting gingerly on the back of his palm. As her skin met his, she felt a warmth both physical and emotional: nostalgia of those rare moments in her life where she felt truly safe. It soon became unbearable, as though she were forcing her hand onto a burning stove. That feeling soon melted away as she heard the ringing of his phone, at which point she quickly pulled her hand away with relief.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here. I’ll take you somewhere nice to eat and we can...talk. Figure something out. Get you somewhere to stay for the night."

"For old time’s sake.”


Perfect. She stared at him for a moment before letting out a reluctant-- and yet somewhat relieved-- sigh. “Okay.” She paused, giving him an almost unnoticeable smile. “For old time’s sake.”
 
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JAXON ORTEGA



Location: Duke’s Nightclub

Funny. He had expected Claire to say no. Actually, he was prepared for Claire to say no, drunk though he was. It showed how little he knew about her anymore.

His thoughts delayed by alcohol, Jaxon waited a beat too long before nodding, fingers slipping loosely against the bar counter. The thrum of the bass music matched the beating of his heart. Fast and fleeting, like the frantic beating of a drum. He tried not to associate it with nervousness.

“Alright,” He said with a nod. His right hand pressed against the edge of the counter, and he rose from his seat.

The room tilted. His right hand caught the edge of the counter before he began a quick descent to the ground. Swearing under his breath, he glanced up to see if anyone had noticed. So far his only audience besides Claire was the bartender, who had ceased all his duties to watch the pair, a stricken expression on his face. What could the man possibly do? If Jaxon had fallen and he'd done nothing to help, more than his job would have been at stake. However, to insult him further by asking if he was alright was to kiss his career goodbye. The man’s eyes squinted as his boss waved away at him.

"You didn't see anything." Jaxon chuckled darkly. "Keep this between us, alright?"

The bartender could only stare. Jaxon never joked around with his employees.

His eyes went blearily towards Claire. He tried to make them focus on her soft features.

"C'mon. There's a car out front."

He expected her to follow him as he walked as carefully as he could through the crowd, the glow of the exit door sign shimmering in his peripheral view. Now that he was standing, all the alcohol was rushing to his brain like a flash flood. His limbs were far too loose and carefree, his eyes too shimmery in the strobe lights. He’d make an easy target, if ever. He almost wished someone would shoot him then, just to teach him a rude lesson on never letting his guard down.

He could feel his phone vibrating angrily in his pocket once more as they stepped outside, and he made a rude noise.

"Pendejo..." He grumbled, fishing around in his pocket for his elusive phone. Pulled up against the curb, the sleek build of a black Mercedes-Benz shone under the neon club lights. As Jaxon pressed the phone to his ear, he shot Claire an apologetic look and shrugged.

"Get in the car, mami." In his inebriated state, the old Puerto Rican side of him was coming out in full force. “I’ll be right there, yeah?”

A loud voice spilled out into his ear. "Jaxon? JAXON? Hey-"

"What?" He snapped. "What? What is it?”

It was his gang leader and best friend Isaac. He sounded irate. “I’ve been trying to call your bitch ass all night. You still there?”

“No. I’m leaving. Why?”

“Take a guard with you. Or Mosley.” There was the sound of rustling paper. A light cough. “Report’s back. The mob’s got someone there now.”

“Jesus.” What a time to be drunk. He couldn’t sober up now if he tried. Hands slipping against the door, he pulled the back passenger door open for Claire and gestured for her to get in. The chauffeur exited the driver side to come open the opposite door for Jaxon.

“You got a pic of the guy?”

“Ain’t no guy. It’s a woman.”

@Karo
 
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CLARISSE ELLISON-HYDE




Location: Duke’s Nightclub

Clarisse could see the surprise on his face, expressed only through a practically unnoticeable lifting of his eyebrows. Most people wouldn't have noticed, but it was easy to spot for her. Between the many years they’d known each other and her extensive experience reading faces, she knew what to look for.

It was as she stood up that Jaxon stumbled, catching himself on the corner of the bar counter. Now Clarisse raised her own eyebrows, amused by the sight. She quickly looked around to see if anyone noticed, but no one was looking their way. The music was too loud and they were too drunk, high, or horny to focus on anything but the fun they were having. The bartender, meanwhile, seemed as though he were going through an internal crisis. Makes sense. No one can touch the boss. She smiled slightly to herself. Except me. Beyond the temporary schadenfreude, she now knew concretely that he was completely inebriated. Jaxon was always grounded and steady, always alert and ready to defend himself at a moment's notice. Now, he was vulnerable.

For a moment, she contemplated offering her arm to steady him. It was something she would do, not because she was particularly worried for him, but because she knew it would embarrass him. She had always loved to poke fun at him. The big bad Jaxon Ortega, doing something stupid and making a fool of himself. It was all in good faith, but she also used it to check that his head wasn’t getting too big. While it was tempting, she ultimately decided against it. She needed him to be open with her and that wouldn’t happen if he felt defensive.

As he steadied himself, she made eye contact with him before looking off to the side, a smile on her face. It was a smile that indicated that she was amused but decided to be gracious and to let him save face. She dutifully followed behind him, watching as he continued to struggle and attempted to navigate the crowd. Yep, he was definitely drunk. If she really wanted to, she could take him out then and there. Stab him with the knife harnessed securely against her upper thigh, or inject him with the poison-filled needle hidden in a tampon applicator in her purse. (No one ever thought to check a tampon, especially men). But that would be a foolish move. All it took was one of his associates noticing and warning everyone to be on the lookout for the last woman Jaxon talked to. No, she needed to play it safe. Calculated. Leaving no room for mistakes.

And though she denied it, in the back of her mind she was relieved that it wasn't the right moment to strike.

Finally stepping out of the club and to the curb where their car was waiting, Clarisse narrowed her eyes at the back of his head as he pulled out his phone. Fuck, what if- Jaxon turned to look at her with an apologetic expression. She rolled her eyes at him and stood silently, looking up at the neon lights of the club in order to make her eavesdropping less obvious. At first he seemed annoyed, but his back ever so slightly straightened as the muffled voice seemed to get quicker. Jaxon’s words gave nothing away, but she could tell something was up. She knew him too well. After he opened the door she paused, then reluctantly got into the car. He closed it quickly behind her and she was left in darkness, Jaxon’s voice a murmur in the well-insulated car. Taking advantage of the driver waiting outside the car for Jaxon, she pulled out her phone and started recording, holding it right against the darkly tinted glass. The program on her phone, disguised as a weather app, was designed to pick up even the smallest of sounds. It broadcasted live to the mafia headquarters where a man on standby quickly went to work transcribing the muffled words. She didn’t have time to read the transcription before the driver opened the other door. She quickly switched to her messenger app, texting in code to the transcriber, saved under a random name to appear like the contact of some friend. She needed this info, stat. As she watched the ellipsis pulse on her screen, Jaxon finally circled round to the other side of the car. She swiftly turned off her phone and dropped it casually into her purse. As he entered the car, she could see he was deep in thought. “Jaxon,” she paused, as though she wasn’t sure whether to continue or not. “You okay?”
 
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JAXON ORTEGA



Location: Harpo's Diner

“What?”

Even while drunk, Jaxon still held an uncanny sharpness to his eyes as he turned his head in Claire’s direction. Something had shifted in his features; gone was the tequila-fueled merriment that had rested in his cheeks, and the small smile he gave her was as cool as the summer’s breeze. It looked unnatural.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Just thinking.”

As well as he could, anyways. Isaac’s warning had more or less been noted, though alcohol had dulled the urgency. His head swam along with his vision. Jaxon’s eyes returned to the window, and he stared blankly at the passing buildings and cars.

“Take us to Harpo’s, Ricky,” he heard himself tell the driver. He glanced at Claire again; she looked so soft and somber under the flickering street lights, and Jaxon, sentimental, vulnerable fool that he was, felt himself reach once for her hand before pulling back, shooting her a simple smile instead.

The smile didn’t reach his eyes. It wasn’t long before he broke the look, returning once more to peering out the window.

“Man, you gotta get the hell out of there. You hearing me? Jaxon?”

He supposed he was just in shock. A few shots more, and Claire would have had him by the cojones. Maybe she still would. Even now he was caught, trapped in a haze of drunken disbelief and muddled paranoia. At this time of night, it would just be them alone in the sleepy diner. There she would have him. Anything she wanted, she would get it. He’d bet his life on it.

“Don’t trust that damn white girl, man. I know that’s your girl, but shit-”

Up ahead, the neon lights for Harpo’s Diner shone, the o flickering intermittently. The place was virtually empty; a lone black sedan idled in the parking lot, and Jaxon eyed it blearily as they came up alongside it.

“Let’s get a booth in the back.” Jaxon’s eyes gleamed in the dark. He was trying, but failing, to maintain the picture of sobriety, and his voice slurred a bit as he added, “Dinner’s on me, ok?”

@Karo
 
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CLARISSE ELLISON-HYDE



Location: Harpo's Diner

His smile was fake. His mind was preoccupied and she suspected why. She glanced down at her purse, hoping for a soft glow to appear as her phone lit up with the information she needed. What the fuck is taking them so long?

She turned to look out the window as he did. The further they drove from downtown, the emptier the streets became. As they passed through the unofficial red-light district, she saw the girls standing on the corner, some of them young teenagers. Though it was too dark to see, she knew that many of them wore the same necklace she had on now.

She glanced at Jaxon and unclasped it. She gazed at it for a moment, rubbing the corners, before rolling down the window slightly and tossing it into the street. Some girl would claim it and inevitably pawn it for drugs, sending it through a number of hands. It wasn’t her problem anymore.

She relaxed in her seat, as though liberated from a huge burden. She ran her fingers under her eyes, wiping away the remnants of her mascara. Enough of that. She'd done all her crying for the night. Hopefully.

Harpo’s. The familiar name brought a wave of emotions, good and bad. Most of her memories of the place were positive, but there were a few silent dinners characterized by shame, fear, and loathing. They had been packed up and hidden away, practically forgotten over the years. But now she was forced to bring them all out, cycling through them quickly like an arsenal of weapons. She wasn’t happy about it but accepted it for what it was: a means to an end.

She noticed movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Jaxon begin to reach for her hand. He abruptly pulled it back and smiled at her, and she smiled back softly. After he turned away she continued to stare at him for a moment, before turning back to the window.

Damn. This is easier than I thought. He’d screwed himself too by choosing Harpo’s. There were too many memories there. He’d be like putty in her hands.

It wasn’t long before they arrived. As the driver turned off the car, Jaxon turned to her, and she gave him a small smile. “Okay.”

The driver opened the door for Jaxon, then Clarisse. As she exited the car, she scanned her surroundings, eyes landing on a loitering black sedan in the parking lot. She was immediately suspicious. Unable to see into the car, she turned her head away and focused on getting inside.

They were greeted by a less than enthusiastic hostess. Noticing Clarisse's red eyes she looked the two over warily, but Clarisse just smiled brightly at her. She'd always had a disarming smile, one that put people at ease. It was one of the best tools she had.

“Can you seat us in the back?”

The woman, noticeably less concerned, nodded. “Yeah, sure.” She led them to the very back, seating them at a table in the corner. On the way there, Clarisse noticed two construction workers sitting at the counter, drinking coffee and shooting the shit. They look harmless enough, but she noted their presence. The hostess placed the menus on the table and left to return to her post, leaving the two alone.

Somehow, in a stroke of luck, she had sat them at what used to be their regular table. Clarisse silently thanked her. Even more nostalgia to exploit.

She grinned. “How do we always manage to get the same damn table? I swear, almost every time we’ve gone here we’ve ended up at this table.”

You need to remind him of something. Something good, something happy.

Clarisse looked over the menu, her eyes landing on one particular dish. Harpo's Harperific Hot Plate. She remembered that dish. It was the one that always amused her. Such a ridiculously stupid name. Somehow she’d never noticed it until-

Bingo.

Clarisse laughed slightly before looking up at Jaxon. “Do you remember after Winter Formal, junior year?” She looked at him inquisitively, searching his eyes. “You didn’t want to go. I knew you didn’t want to go. But you did.” She paused. “For me.” She was silent for a moment, before turning her attention back to the menu.

“And do you remember how funny I found this stupid dish?” she asked, turning her menu around and pointing at it. “Harpo’s Harperific--

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--Hot Plate! What kind of a name is that?” Claire laughed, pointing it out to Jaxon. It was after Winter Formal, and she was fairly tipsy. Scratch that. Very tipsy. She was the definition of a happy drunk. Amused by everything, upbeat, and incredibly affectionate.

She had snuck in a small flask filled with vodka from her father’s alcohol collection. Her mother didn’t drink. She wouldn’t even notice. She didn’t necessarily need alcohol to have fun, but given the week she’d had, it was useful to take the edge off. She wanted to enjoy the night and keep the negative thoughts at bay for as long as she could. If that took a little alcohol, then so be it.

She gazed at Jaxon, her head tilted slightly. Her eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips, and she grinned. “You have no idea how badly I want to kiss you right now,” she said, staring into his eyes again. She stayed like that for what seemed like forever before they were interrupted by the waitress.

“So what would you two lovebirds like to eat?” The woman smiled knowingly at the pair, flipping to a new page on her notepad. Normally the term would make her cringe, but slightly drunk Claire was happy enough that she didn’t care.

Claire didn’t skip a beat. “The Harpo's Harperific Hot Plate,” she answered cheerily. “It sounds interesting.” She waited for Jaxon to order and the waitress to disappear before turning to him again. There was a certain sparkle in her eye.

That week had started out rough. A fight with her mother, a visit from the Father, and a glimpse of her father’s uniform in her mother’s closet. But none of that mattered now. She’d pushed those feelings-- that anger and sadness and fear and mourning --into a small corner of her mind. She’d become an expert at that over the years. They would make their way out eventually, but for now, they were gone. Tonight, she was happy. Genuinely happy.

“Thank you. For taking me. I know you didn’t want to go, but I’m glad you did.” She looked him up and down and smiled again. “Besides, I never would have known how good you look in a suit.”
 
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JAXON ORTEGA



Location: Harpo's Diner

It was as ugly as the day he’d first stepped through the diner’s doors. Red and white linoleum tile met with yellow printed walls, ending in a garish 60s motif scattered around the diner’s bar counter. The bar stools and diner booths were an enthusiastic aquamarine. Bright, loud, and in your face as much as conceivably possible. Jaxon noted some potted shrubbery in the back corner and couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. It was possibly the only change there’d been in over 30 years. Harpo was slipping.

And, evidently, so was he. Jaxon slid into the booth across from Claire, careful not to let his legs knock against hers. His head felt heavy; he stared at the fuzzy outlines of her face, blinking in the wake of her youthful grin. She looked so happy and...and beautiful. It was almost like how it’d been in high school. Even the same booth, as she so helpfully pointed out, and Jaxon looked about himself as if noticing for the first time.

Claire was radiant. Gone was the crying lamb from before; she was inexplicably, almost irresistibly giddy. Something about it pulled at the dull apathy in his heart. He wanted to smile, but couldn’t. He couldn’t.

Not like he could back then, so many years ago…

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The laugh came to him as easily as air. Claire always knew what stuff to pick at to make him laugh, and she was right; the name was cheesy as hell.

Jaxon smoothed a hand over his hair. It was the flattest it’d ever been in his life. He could thank Abuela for that; her heavy hands and copious amounts of hair gel were enough to mush down even the most stubborn cowlicks. The suit, too, came from her. He’d never worn one before, and every so often he would fidget, uncomfortable in this new skin.

“Yeah, mami?” Jaxon perked up at her mention of a kiss, and he leaned in a bit. “Listen-”

The damn waitress came in, unintentionally cockblocking. He was forced to switch gears, quickly ordering a hamburger - “can you tell them no tomato, please” - and scratching at his ear, trying not to look as guilty as he felt. Claire was eyeing him again, and he couldn’t help but return her smile, soft and hopeful.

He couldn’t lie. There were a lot of things on his mind at that point, some of which were less than savory. Clarisse looked really good, like, really really good, and he could at least five different things he would rather have been doing than staring at her from across the table.

The young man folded his arms on top of the table, listening to his girlfriend’s light compliment. He gave a small shrug.

“Eh, if you say so. Itches like hell, though. I like what you got on better.” His eyes shone in the dim lighting, an uncanny perceptiveness to them. “You lookin’ real nice. Wish my mom had taken a picture before we left.”

The crazy woman. She probably would have made them late for the dance if she'd had her way, what with her twenty questions game with Claire and her stipulations with the car. The lady had always been overprotective of Jaxon, but it seemed that tonight she’d ramped things up a bit. Maybe she’d noticed the way Jaxon had looked at Claire and correctly assumed his motives.

Well. His initial motives.

“Where you wanna go after this?” He asked innocently, a coy smile on his lips. “I hear it’s a full moon tonight. We can go up to Cliffside and just...hang out, you know?”
 
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CLARISSE ELLISON-HYDE



Location: Harpo's Diner

Claire grinned at his compliment. “I’m glad you think so. I had to fight my mom for this dress. She said it was slutty,” she said with a shrug, brushing her curled hair away from her shoulders.

It wasn’t really, but given her mother’s expectations of modesty, the thin straps and v-neck cut were downright whorish. Maybe that was why she picked it.

Or maybe her mother was right to be worried. Jaxon wasn’t slick. Claire knew exactly what he was thinking and it lit a fire within her.

“A full moon, hm?” she asked playfully. “Cliffside sounds perfect then. Great view of the moon, quiet, isolated...” She rubbed her foot against his leg and gave him a flirty look.

Claire felt on top of the world. She had been nerve-racked the week leading up to the dance. One quick glance at her bitten nails would make her anxiety glaringly clear. The stereotype of teens messing around and sleeping together after school dances existed for a reason. Though she had made up her mind weeks ago that she was ready to take things to the next level with Jaxon, her own uncertainties had been eating away at her.

But now, with a little alcohol coursing through her veins and the lingering euphoria from hours of dancing and fun, she felt ready.

She had to be.

“You know what your mom asked me?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “She asked if I was on birth control.”

She wasn’t kidding. At one point during her barrage of questions, his mother had leaned in and whispered the question, looking visibly concerned. Claire was stunned then, but looking back on it, found it endearing.

“But I like your mom. I mean, obviously not because she asked me that, but because I can tell she really cares about you.” She smiled at him. “It’s sweet. Kind of reminds me of my dad.”
 
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JAXON ORTEGA



Location: Harpo's Diner

Claire knew exactly what he meant. At first, Jaxon expected some hesitation, but luck was on his side tonight. She smiled, and Jaxon grinned as she looked at him in that way that made his hairs stand on the back of his neck. Then her foot rubbed against his leg, and the cabrón down below perked up. Jaxon’s brow raised.

Órale, vato!

“You know what your mom asked me? She asked if I was on birth control.”

And just like that, Jaxon nearly choked on air. That damned woman - sweet like her dad, eh? Nah. The woman was a helicopter parent, if he’d ever seen one. Crazy lady. He should’ve never left her alone with Claire.

“Nah, Claire, listen-”

“Alright guys, here’s your orders!”

Once again, in the nick of time, their waitress returned, her arm loaded with a food-laden tray. Jaxon leaned back as she placed their plates in front of him, though he couldn’t help but dart a hungry look at Claire’s plate, which was- well, loaded to full capacity, that was for sure. He looked forward to eating what she couldn’t finish.

But first. Back to the issue at hand.

“Aw, shit. Sorry.” He scratched at his ear, looking disgruntled. “Sorry about that. My mom’s crazy.”

Which was true, but she’d raised a helluva good question. It was certainly something he’d never asked Claire before, but mostly because he didn’t run her off. But maybe it was just him- hell, maybe it was just the alcohol running through her veins, but Claire was definitely feeling the vibe. His eyes darted away then back, wide with feigned innocence.

“What’d you say when she asked?” Jaxon asked as casually as he could, before taking a generous bite of his burger.
 
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CLARISSE ELLISON-HYDE



Location: Harpo's Diner

His startled response made her laugh. She loved it when she caught him off guard. It was cute.

Her attention was pulled to the waitress returning with their orders. Her plate was stacked with food. Ham, hash browns, hot cross buns, and pancakes-- no, hotcakes --drizzled with honey and topped with whipped honey butter. She looked at it for a moment dumbfounded, then snickered. Alliteration. What a stupid gimmick.

She couldn’t be too mad, though. Harpo’s made the best hash browns and pancakes she’d ever had.

“What’d you say when she asked?”

“Why you wanna know?” she asked teasingly. It was entertaining to watch him try to act nonchalant and innocent. She took a bite of her pancakes and chewed for a moment, letting the question hang in the air. She swallowed.

“I told her the truth: I’m not. My mom would kill me before letting me go on it.” She looked at him, her face serious for the first time that night. “If your mom’s crazy, mine is fucking psychotic. You wouldn’t believe the shit she says and believes.” She continued cutting her pancakes. “I asked her about it before and she lost it. Started sobbing, said she was a failure of a mother and raising a whore.” She rolled her eyes. “I just wanted it for period cramps.”

A lie. She had a much more important reason for wanting it but if she told her mother why, she’d never speak to her again. Cramps were much more believable.

She pushed the thought away.

“Mmm, you have to try these,” she insisted, quickly returning to her cheery mood. She held out a piece of pancake on her fork. “The honey butter makes it taste amazing.”
 
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JAXON ORTEGA



Location: Harpo's Diner

The only answer Jaxon had for Claire’s retort was another bite of his hamburger. He feigned ignorance as he continued on eating, though the twitching of his lips made it obvious that he was trying not to smile.

He loved Claire like this. Not the tipsy part, no - he wasn’t a damned creep. But the effortless joy on her face was so satisfactory. There was nothing better than the feeling that you’ve made another person genuinely happy, if even for a moment. Like everyone else, Claire had her own demons, and sometimes she’d come to school moody and upset, plagued by something unforeseen.

It almost always had something to do with her mother. “Judgemental” was too kind a word for her. He didn’t like the way she cut at Claire with her words, everyday, like an ever-present thorn in her side. The word “whore” slipped out of his girlfriend’s mouth, and an imperceptible frown tinged his face.

Leave it alone.

He didn’t pretend to be an expert on women, but if there was one thing he knew, it’s that nobody liked someone who was too in your face. His jackass friends thought they were real macho for pushing up on chicks. Pendejos. That’s why they couldn’t keep anybody.

But he had his. A good one, too. That’s why he didn’t say shit as the conversation turned abruptly back to their meal. He took another bite of his meal, chewing idly as Claire’s face filled with a happy glow once more.

Live and let live. They could talk about it later. When she was ready.

“Yeah?” He hummed a beat later, eyeing the offered pancake sample. His eyes pinballed from her fork to her slim wrist to her eyes, and his mouth twisted coyly.

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. He threw a quick glance around the restaurant and, apparently satisfied that one was watching, leaned in - but not to eat. Bypassing the fork entirely, Jaxon planted a light kiss on Claire’s fingers, before snagging the piece of pancake off her fork.

Stuffing it in his mouth, he winked at her as he chewed.

“‘Ey, this is good. Thanks.”

His burger was all but gone. Courtesy of being raised poor - you tended to eat fast. Wiping his hands on a napkin, Jaxon slouched back in his seat, glancing at Claire. Once again, his eyes roved over her soft build aglow with a well of happiness. He exhaled softly.

“You’re not a whore,” He said slowly. So much for not saying anything. “Your mom just knows you’re beautiful and guys will be coming after you.”

He shrugged his shoulders lightly, looking off to the side.

“Moms say crazy shit because they think they’re trying to protect you. It ain’t right, but I’m just saying, ya know? Don't be listening to that shit."
 
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CLARISSE ELLISON-HYDE



Location: Harpo's Diner

Claire couldn’t help but giggle as Jaxon kissed her fingers. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she imagined him kissing her lips, face, neck…

She gave him a playful kick.

She really was in the perfect mood. It’d faltered a bit, sure, but she was certain she could keep it up for the night. She wanted more than anything for this night to be perfect. She just needed to keep enjoying the little things and stay positive, then let the buzz carry her the rest of the way.

But as Jaxon began to address her mother's words, she felt her cheeks get hot.

A sense of admiration filled her, but it was easily overshadowed by frustration. Oh, Jaxon. He was trying and she loved him for it, but unbeknownst to him, he was opening the door to the thoughts she’d worked so hard to lock away.

“Well, she doesn’t need to worry about that.” Her tone was defensive but quickly softened. “I have you.”

It was true. She felt safer with Jaxon than she’d felt with anyone else. He was gentle and caring. He was the one person in her life who actually seemed to give a damn about her.

And unlike her mother, he hadn’t failed her yet.

She blinked, trying to shake the thought. Things were getting off track and despite her haze, her stomach began to knot. She knew she needed to steer the conversation somewhere else, anywhere else.

“Whatever, enough about that.” She picked up her plate, pushing half of her food onto his now empty one. “Now,” she handed him an unopened silverware roll that sat at the back of the table. “Help me finish this so we can get out of here.”
 
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