Indecent Proposal
Chapter One: Proposal

“That movie is a travesty.” Dawson grumbled as the credits for ‘Indecent Proposal’ rolled by. “The plot is weak, the characters are unrealistic, the acting is poor. It’s an insult to any sound minded person’s sensibilities.”

“Then why did we spend the last few hours watching it?” Dawson’s girlfriend asked amusedly.

“Because good movies only tell you so much. You sit there and you watch and examine all the brilliant things a person has done and you learn from them. You learn what you could do or should do. But good movies don’t teach you what not to do. You only learn what not to do when you watch a bad movie. And this is a very bad movie. I’ve learnt a lot.” Dawson explained. “And as a budding director, determined to make his career, watching bad movies is as essential to me as watching any of Speilberg’s Oscar deserving films. Film school and the industry has taught me a lot, Joey. I’m older and wiser and all the better for it.”

Joey’s lips curled up into a small smile. “And yet a part of you remains the same little boy I grew up with. The same Dawson Leery I’ve known and loved for the majority of my life.”

“That’s because as much as things change, some things don’t change that much.” He wrapped his arms tightly around his girlfriend and dropped a kiss on the side of her neck.

“So,” Joey asked as she glanced coyly into Dawson’s brown eyes, “If some billionaire offered us a million dollars to spend the night with me would you tell him no?”

“Of course I would tell him no! There’s no question about it.”

“Hmmm…you’re right. What with inflation and everything, a million dollars isn’t worth much these days. Besides, I do believe I’m worth more than one million dollars. How about ten million?”

“I’m not going to even dignify that with a response.”

“But think of the money,” Joey baited. “Ten million dollars. We could pay off all those college debts we’ve been amassing. We wouldn’t have to continually rent this dumpster but might actually afford to buy, not rent, a decent apartment of our own. You could finally work on your film. The film that is going to sweep America and the rest of the world by storm and lift Dawson Leery’s name out of obscurity.”

“Ten million dollars would be nice.” Dawson sighed, dreaming of the prospect of making his own big-budget film.

“So we have a deal then?” Joey asked. “The first rich guy that says he’ll give us ten million dollars to spend the night with me, or you for that matter, we’ll take up his offer.”

Dawson shook his head in amusement as he pulled himself and his girlfriend up from the couch. “Joey, I think it’s way past our bed time.”

******

“I’m offering you ten million dollars and that is my final offer.” The voice was calm and firm and polite.

The older man inspected his younger counterpart and knew he was outmatched. There was a calculating intelligence that sparkled from the younger man’s eyes. George Cresswell tried to decide if they were green or blue or brown or hazel. The color seemed to shift and change at different angles of the light. Just another one of those things that made Jay Everitt impossible to read.

“Okay Everitt, you have yourself a deal. My lawyer will call yours tomorrow to finalize and discuss the details.”

“Very good. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Cresswell.”

The two men shook hands and then parted into the crowd that was gathered at the Ashby mansion.

Jay Everitt walked straight to the bar ignoring the series of people determined to wayward him. These functions with the disgustingly rich were pretentious and self-indulging. He held them in disdain and yet he reveled in the glory of such things. After all he was one of the disgustingly rich. A shot or two of whisky later and Jay Everitt was the life of the party. He flirted and charmed the ladies, discussed business, sports and politics with the men and hated every single moment of it as much as he used to love every single moment.

“J-aa-ay, darling.” Katherine Wilson called. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

The gorgeous redhead, tall and full of curves and defining the meaning of sophisticated elegance strolled over to Jay and slipped an arm around him. She was the current girlfriend; great in bed and wonderful at social events. So far they had lasted slightly over a month. Privately Jay felt the relationship had less than a month left in it although Katherine was probably entertaining other illusions.

“Jay darling, the Wiloughbys have just invited us to the opening of one of their latest galleries. It’s going to be relatively small and exclusive and the gallery will contain some of the renowned classic and contemporary artists of today. Shall we go? It’s next Friday night. I thought it might be a nice thing to go to. That’s if you’re free?”

Jay glanced coolly at the redhead before pecking her on the cheek and giving a nod of consent. She beamed in pleasure and then glided back to Sarah Wiloughby, who had been obviously waiting for an answer. They both seemed to sense his gaze and smiled broadly waving at him to come and talk even as the people besides him and all around him incessantly chattered.

Jay Everitt idly wondered how he had gotten here. He often wondered. He seemed unable to place the pieces of his life together. Point A did not connect with point B. Everything seemed so fragmented and dislocated. He walked to the bar and ordered another whisky and slowly sipped his drink. The warmth of the alcohol filled his stomach in an almost comforting manner. The truth was he wished to be anywhere but here. Preferably out at sea. Alone on the boat with only ocean and sky. Devoid of people. He’d even prefer to be back in a small town filled with the tortures of growing up; of being less than he was now.

Everitt had been his mother’s name. Before she married his father and given birth to too many children; one of which included him. Jay was his middle name. His middle name could have been his father’s. He could have been named after his father but that privilege had gone to his older, more favored brother. It probably broke some family tradition that Jay Everitt hadn’t been named after his father or his father’s father or the father before that. But then it was part of Jay Everitt’s legacy. He was always one for breaking tradition.

He gulped down the rest of his whisky in one swift and smooth motion. Then he closed his mind and let himself block out the times when he hadn’t been Jay Everitt.

*****

“Do you think I look all right?” Joey whispered for the hundredth time.

“Joey you look perfect. More beautiful than when you got all dressed up for the Miss Windjammer Beauty Pageant.” Dawson stated.

“It’s just that this is a big night for me.” Joey bit her lower lip nervously. “I’m so petrified that something will go wrong.”

Dawson nodded and patted her hand comfortingly while trying to suppress that tiny pang of jealously. He was proud of Joey. He was proud of her success and her art even though he had never, quite fully, come to terms with Joey’s passion for art. Yet Dawson had accepted it and supported her endeavors. Only it seemed a little unfair that Joey was being showered with recognition when Dawson had yet to receive any critical acclaim; not in any professional sense at least. At most he was a glorified coffee maker. Dawson knew he had talent but there was a considerable difference between talent and recognition of talent. And some days Dawson utterly craved for the recognition. So maybe it was understandable that he felt the pangs of jealousy and that a small part of him wished that something would go horribly wrong for Joey on this important night. After all it was only a small part of Dawson Leery and the other ninety-nine percent of him was hoping that everything would run smoothly and go perfectly for his girlfriend.

They mingled all night. Joey basked in the glow of success and praise while Dawson stood by her side.

“See. I told you everything would be fine.” Dawson whispered into her ear. She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling with joy.

“Josephine.” A tall, stately man in his early sixties greeted Joey. “Your works have been a wonderful success. Everyone has been thoroughly impressed by your talent and depth. Some of the more hardened critics were utterly gushing. I, of course, was very proud to have recognized your talent and having had the brains to exhibit your work. I know I took a risk surrounding you with some of the ‘greats’ but I knew you wouldn’t disappoint. In fact, I do believe you might have outshone the lot of them. Your reputation has been firmly established tonight. And you, my dear, have just become one of the highest sought talents of the decade.”

“Mr Wiloughby,” Joey blushed. “You flatter me.”

“A woman like yourself should be flattered.” Lloyd Wiloughby turned to glance at Dawson. “And is this the boyfriend? The struggling, wanna-be director? The idea of the two of you together is just fabulous Joey. The newspapers and critics will love it. They love the whole struggling, poverty-stricken artists thing. Publicity will eat it up like hot cakes. Where did you find him? It really is too precious. Although, you might have chosen a better looking one. The media much prefers the dark, handsome brooding type. Stereotypes you understand. This one is a little too much of a dirty blonde.”

Dawson’s nostrils flared as he stared angrily at the man before him, barely able to keep up a polite front. He spun around on his heel and exited without a word leaving Joey standing alone with Mr Wiloughby.

Joey hastily said her apologies and ran after Dawson. “Dawson! Dawson! Where are you going?”

“I’m not going to take that!” Dawson stated. “That man was rude and insufferable. He insulted me.”

“I know he did honey, but these people are just like that. You shouldn’t mind what he says. Come on, we’ll go back in and prove to everyone that you’re more than just a wanna-be director I picked off the streets.”

“No Joey. I’m not going back. I’m sick of fawning over those pretentious idiots who don’t know the difference between talent and garbage.”

“They liked more work.” Joey softly pointed out.

“My point exactly.” Dawson sneered. “I’m leaving Joey. You can come with me or not. Honestly I don’t care. In fact, don’t come with me. Go back to them. It’s where you clearly belong.”

“Dawson! Dawson! C’mon Dawson don’t be like this!” Joey called but he stomped away, hailed a cab and disappeared as if he hadn’t heard her cries.

Joey stared into the night sky, fury boiling within her at Dawson’s departure. He’d been throwing more tantrums recently, making snide comments which Joey had brushed aside. And now he was acting like an immature, spoilt brat on one of the most important nights of her life. She didn’t need his shit.

“Go to hell, Dawson Leery.” Joey silently cursed and then smoothing the non-existent wrinkles from her dress walked back inside.

*****

He stared at the painting. It was a brick wall in the middle of a street. A brick wall in the middle of a street in some small town. The brick wall had a covering of white paint slathered in an even rectangular shape. And on the white were several strokes of red forming indecipherable words. Only Jay Everitt knew what the words were meant to be. And he knew that this was no ordinary brick wall.

At the bottom of the painting, scrawled in black, were the initials J.P.

“See anything you like Jay?” Mr Wiloughby asked.

“This painting. Lloyd, how much does it cost?”

“From what I understand, the artist has specifically stated that this painting is not for sale. You may buy all the other paintings in the collection but not this one.”

Jay’s eyes glinted with determination. “I’m not interested in any of the other paintings in the collection. I. Want. This. One.”

“Jay,” Mr Wiloughby began, “I don’t think that it is possible…”

“Lloyd, my dear friend, anything is possible.” Jay Everitt grinned. “At least for me. Bring the artist here. I’ll make her an offer she can not refuse.”

“One moment Jay.”

Jay watched as Lloyd Wiloughby scurried into the crowd. He knew instantly when Lloyd had found the artist. He had, of course, known where she had been all night. He had seen the lovely Josephine Potter mingling with the crowd. He had also seen Dawson Leery, hanging on her arm – the picture of perfect couplehood. The picture of perfect couplehood until Dawson had blown up at Joey on the street, just outside the gallery. Now Jay watched as she approached. Her black, understated dress clung to her body. It wasn’t meant to be particularly seductive but on Josephine Potter the dress was sinful. Katherine Wilson in her short, green, all-revealing dress had looked like a cross between sluttish and nun-like, if that was possible. Jay’s eyes continued to glint as Joey approached. He saw her eyes widen and her hands tighten into a fist when she recognized him.

“Josephine, I’d like you to meet Jay Everitt.” Lloyd Wiloughby introduced. “Jay, I’d like you to meet Josephine Potter. The artist.”

“Josephine Potter.” Jay drawled. “The artist.”

“The artist.” Joey confirmed tersely.

“Will you excuse us Lloyd?” Jay turned to the older man.

“Of course Jay. Joey, Jay, I’ll be taking my leave now.” Mr Wiloughby turned around and quickly left.

“So Pacey…” Joey began.

“Actually the name is now officially Jay Everitt.” Pacey corrected.

“Fine Jay…”

“Although you can call me Pacey if you want.” He ran a finger down Joey’s arm and grinned wolfishly. “You can call me whatever you want. After all we are old friends.”

“Fine. So Pacey, what is this all about?”

“I think I’d like to buy you.” Pacey answered.

“Excuse me?” Joey screeched.

Pacey placed a finger over Joey’s mouth. “Hush now Jo. You wouldn’t want to make a scene.”

“Listen Pacey, you may be Jay Everitt now. You may be disgustingly rich but you can’t buy people!”

“Actually in my experience, money can buy anything. Especially people.”

“Not this person.” Joey growled.

“Oh really? Would you consider your paintings to be part of you?” Pacey lazily asked.

“Yes.”

“And you’re selling your paintings?”

“Yes.” Joey sighed in exasperation. “You know that already.”

“Then you’re selling yourself Joey. You’re whoring yourself out to these people for money. All in the name of art. And I would like to buy a piece of Josephine Potter.” His fingers trailed down her bare back this time, tracing little circles across her spine.

She shivered, momentarily frozen by the forgotten touch of Pacey’s fingers on her body. Then his words sunk in and her arm moved to hit him across the face in a resounding slap. He grabbed her arm before she could pull back and brought her hand to his lips. He kissed her stinging red hand and then opened his mouth to suck and nibble on her fingers before letting her go.

“You know, I always liked it best when you were feisty.” Pacey commented. “So how much will it cost me to buy that painting?” He pointed to the painting of the familiar brick wall.

“It’s not for sale Pacey. I would have thought Mr Wiloughby would have informed you of this.”

“He did.” Pacey stated. “And I refused to take no for an answer. What I want I get, Joey.”

“You can’t always get what you want.” Joey retorted.

“But Jay Everitt can. And I, dear Josephine Potter, am Jay Everitt. And I want that painting. So how much will it cost? 1 million? 2 million? 4 or 5 million?” He watched in amusement as Joey’s eyes bugged as he threw the figures out into the air. “Do any of those figures strike you as appealing?”

After the briefest moment of pausing, which Pacey calmly noted, Joey shook her head adamantly. “That painting is not for sale. Not even for you. Not even if you offered me ten million dollars!”

Pacey’s eyes narrowed and continued to glint like a hawk hovering over its prey. “Is that what it’ll take? Ten million dollars to buy the painting? To buy the memories?”

"Pacey..." Joey's voice was momentarily sad - mingled with regret and loss and recollection. "You can't buy memories.”

"Then what about ten million dollars for a night of reminiscing?”

“What?” Joey asked confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Ten million dollars to spend the night with me.” He whispered the words in Joey’s ear, his breath tickling her and sending shivers throughout her body. He kissed her on the bottom of her right ear lobe, sucking just a little. Her nipples hardened in response and Pacey’s hand wandered down to rest on the curve of her hip.

“Fuck off Pacey.” Joey said as she pushed him away but her breathing was ragged and her body was flushed.

“You’re the one who looks like you need a good fuck.” Pacey noted. “You’re awfully tense. How long has it been since you’ve had an orgasm, Joey? How does Dawson compare? Does he make you scream at night? Do thoughts of him make you wet? Or do you lie in bed frustrated and unsatisfied?”

“What Dawson and I have is special, Pacey! You wouldn’t understand!”

“Oh no, Miss Potter. I beg to contradict.” Pacey shook his head. “I think I understand better than the two of you. I’ve been a witness to your whole soulmates crap from the very beginning. I’ve even had the misfortune of playing some role in the bizarre triangles that you and Dawson seem to feed off. I know everything about what you and Dawson have. I know how you’re soulmates and how you justify a pitiful, pathetic sex life by believing that whenever his dick enters you two souls are joining.”

“You don’t know us at all Pacey.” Joey whispered fiercely. “For one thing you’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong? Do pray tell, how I’m wrong. You’re not actually going to tell me that Dawson Leery can satisfy your needs.” Pacey broke out into a short laugh and then his eyes widened with realization. “No, you’re not going to tell me that are you? You and Dawson. You and Dawson haven’t had sex yet!”

"Dawson just happens to be the best I’ve ever had.” Joey spat out with a triumphant look on her face.

“Joey, Joey, Joey. All these lies. There’s no use trying to pretend with me when we both know that I know the truth.” Pacey smirked, confident in his revelation.

Joey stepped back. She needed to get out of her. She needed to get away from Pacey Witter and the disruption and havoc he was causing. “I’d like to say it’s been nice seeing you again but it hasn’t.” She snapped. “Now I’m going to go back to my apartment and sleep. In bed. With my fiancee.”

“Too bad it’ll only be sleeping!” Pacey chuckled. He touched Joey on the arm and handed her his card. “Just in case you decide you’d like to become ten million dollars richer.”

Joey wrenched her arm away and marched off.

“By the way Joey, nice engagement ring!” Pacey called.

She glanced down at her hands, both devoid of any jewelry, and cursed Pacey Witter to hell for knowing her too well.

*****

Dawson fumbled for the last cigarette in the pack. He inhaled and then exhaled a cloud of smoke. His throat burned as the liquid trickled down before settling in his stomach.

“Bitch.” He muttered to himself and took another puff of his cigarette. In his alcoholic haze he thought he just might hate Josephine Potter as much as he loved her.

“Hey good looking.” A blonde in a short, black plastic skirt, imitation leather, and a gaudy gold halter approached Dawson. “What’s a handsome, successful man like yourself doing drinking alone?”

Dawson preened and straightened up a little. “Just enjoying my drink and relaxing.”

“Mind if I join you?”

Courteously Dawson nodded, “The seat’s empty. Who am I to stop you?”

Several rounds later and Dawson had gained a new friend. “Oh I love ET. It’s my favorite movie. So touching and moving. You know Steven Spielberg is my favorite director.” The blonde squinted. “You know in this light you even look like a bit like him.”

“Really?”

“Really.” The blonde nodded as her hands stroked Dawson’s chest. “In fact you both have the distinguished, talented look of true artists. I bet you’ll be even bigger and better than Speilberg!”

Dawson laughed in embarrassment, “You’re much too sweet.” His hand landed on her thigh and absently he patted her nylon-clad leg. “I could never be better than Speilberg but maybe just as good.”

“Oooh definitely just as good!” The woman squealed, throwing her arms around Dawson. “I mean you’re so smart and creative and big and strong,” she squeezed his biceps in emphasis, “So very, very strong.”

Her breasts were pressed enticingly against Dawson’s chest and when she moved closer to initiate a passionate kiss Dawson did not pull away. In the crowded bar, her hand slipped below the belt down to his crotch. “Maybe we should go somewhere a little more private.” The blonde suggested.

He nodded his head dumbly, his mental faculties numbed by either the alcohol, passion, a combination of both or something else, and followed the blonde out of the bar only pausing long enough to toss a few bills on the table.

*****

Joey stumbled into their apartment and felt a pang of disappointment when she realized that Dawson wasn't home yet. The apartment had this desolate, lonely feel to it. Empty and devoid. Everything was still the same though. There was the plaid couch that Dawson had insisted on buying. Two small wooden tables; one which held a tiny bowl filled with water and a goldfish; the other goldfish had died a few days ago. The walls of the apartment were covered with photographs that Dawson had taken or photographs of ‘great’ directors.

The neon green glow from microwave digitally told the time. It was late. Too late. Dawson should have been home by now. Joey had honestly expected to be sitting in front of the television sulking. She expected some cajoling and wheedling before Dawson would relent and forgive her. Not that he actually has anything to forgive me for. Joey sighed and gazed sourly at the empty room. Anger and resentment burned in her – anger and resentment at Pacey and at Dawson. She wasn’t even sure who she was more angry at.

“Damn you both to hell.” Joey muttered and wondered why she let either of them have so much power over her. She kicked off her shoes and stomped angrily into the bedroom. The zipper of her dress was forcibly yanked down and she quickly changed into her pajamas.

Joey flopped into bed but she was too angry to fall asleep. She was conscious of the vastness of her bed and the empty side which was yet to be filled by the warmth of a body. She was conscious of how one brief, accidental encounter with Pacey Witter could leave her raw and exposed. Conscious of how he could see right through her lies. Conscious of how he made her re-examine her relationship with Dawson. Conscious of him.

Her body still tingled in remembrance of his touch. He had grown. He had gained weight but it was in terms of muscles and not fatty bulk. There was still that boyish charm about him but Pacey Witter or Jay Everitt or whatever he called himself these days was most definitely a man. In fact there was this predatory danger that seemed to emanate from him; a predatory danger that he had gained and was part of his devastating allure.

The dampness between her legs betrayed how Joey felt about bumping into Pacey Witter again. She rubbed her legs together and tried to ignore the ache. After all she was with Dawson now. Dawson who, after everything that had been said and done, Joey had still managed to find her way back to. That had to mean something. It had to be significant. She couldn’t feel desire or passion for Pacey. And she was so not lying in this bed getting hot thinking about Pacey or how his body filled the tuxedo or how his spicy aftershave smelt. She was not touching herself thinking about Pacey. She was not. Joey was just frustrated, frustrated because she and Dawson hadn’t had sex yet.

“Dawson? Why are we waiting?”

“Waiting for what?” Dawson asked confused.

“Waiting to have sex. I mean we’re both mature, consenting adults who have slept with other people before…”

“I know that Joey. But when you and I finally consummate our relationship it will be more than the simple act of having sex. Having sex with you will erase everything in the past; there will be no other women for me; we’ll be joined in the most intimate and sensual, soul-binding manner. So it has to be perfect. And I figure what day will be more special and perfect than our wedding day?”

“Wedding day? You haven’t even asked me to marry you yet Dawson.” Joey stated. “Unless…” Her eyes widened.

“No. Oh no. I’m not asking you to marry me. Not yet anyway. I’m just visualizing sometime in the distant future.”

“So we wait?”

“We’ve waited this long to be together, we can wait some more.” He kissed her cheek. “Why don’t you go make us some popcorn while I go and pop a movie into the VCR?”

Anyway lust wasn’t love. Joey repeated that in her head until it became a mantra. Lust was not love. She may be touching herself and thinking of Pacey’s broad back and the way his muscles rippled as he moved but it didn’t mean that she loved him. Joey knew she loved Dawson despite the unbidden, nagging feeling that she loved Dawson but she wasn’t in love with Dawson. Her fingers continued to move deftly, in and out of her slick warmth. Lust was not love. She was not still harboring some lovey dovey feelings for Pacey Witter. Besides there was no Pacey Witter anymore. Just the rich, egotistical Jay Everitt. Her hand quickened its pace and Joey gasped, smothering a scream of pleasure as she came.

Lust was not love.

******

“Who was the brunette?”

“What?” Pacey turned to look at the woman before him, not really paying attention to anything she had said.

“Who was the brunette I saw you talking with tonight, Jay?” Katherine asked as she placed her arms over his shoulder.

Pacey shrugged her off. “She was no one.”

“She didn’t look like no one.”

“She was one of the artists that was featured in Wiloughby’s gallery. No one important.”

“But what were the two of your talking so intensely about?” Katherine prodded.

“Nothing!” Pacey snapped. “What’s with the third degree Katherine?” He stalked to his bar and grabbed a glass, pouring himself a stiff drink. It didn’t help the throbbing in his head or the churning in his stomach whenever he thought of Joey Potter.

The chance encounter with Joey had unnerved him although Pacey would never admit it nor show her or anyone else how rattled he was. Seeing her had brought a rush of emotions back. For a few seconds he had become the confused, hurt and castrated eighteen year old Pacey Witter who had flown out of Capeside with his tail between his leg. Defeated and helplessly, hopelessly in love with an eighteen year old Joey Potter he knew he couldn’t have. He hadn’t been good enough for her then. He wondered if he was good enough for her now. Quickly Pacey downed his drink and then poured himself another. Alcohol was good, especially at times like this.

“I’m sorry Jay.” Katherine purred. “Come here and let me make it up to you.”

He heard the metallic clacking of her zipper being pulled down. When turned to look at her, the beautiful redhead stood before Pacey in all her glorious nakedness. He stared at her critically examining the perfection of her body. Part of him waited for the familiar stirrings of desire but tonight he was unaffected by her display. When she posed in what she considered a seductive manner, Pacey was disgusted and turned off. His mind immediately jumped to the innocent shyness of Joey Potter. He remembered her tanned skin that glowed under the fire of his eyes. Even as she grew more comfortable in her sexuality and her actions grew bolder and more daring, there was something within her that remained Joey Potter. Something pure and unadulterated. Something that no other woman that Pacey had met had. Something that Katherine most definitely did not have.

“Go home Katherine.” Pacey stated as he tossed her clothes to her.

“You’re mad aren’t you?”

“No I’m not mad. I’m just not in the mood. Go home.”

“Ja-ay, don’t be like this.” Katherine’s voice took on a high-pitched whine. “Let me take you to bed and make it all better.”

“Katherine,” Pacey’s voice was low and soft and dangerous, “Leave. Now.”

Hurriedly Katherine nodded, quickly changing and departing but not before pouting and posturing and promising to call him in the morning. Pacey sighed with relief when the door shut closed. And then he was alone again.

Alone.

While Joey was back in her apartment snuggled up with Dawson. The soulmates inevitably reunited. And despite the fact that Pacey knew that Joey had been lying when she told him that she and Dawson were engaged and sleeping together, Pacey could see the truth in her words. Maybe they weren’t having sex. Maybe they weren’t engaged. But they would be. It was the future that Pacey had been fighting ever since he had fallen in love with Josephine Potter and it was a futile fight.

She had been everything he wanted. She had been everything. She still was. Which was why Pacey hadn’t been able to get away fast enough. The moment he had fallen for Joey he had known that this was it. She was the one the girl. She would make him feel like everything and make him feel like nothing. It would be the best of times and the worst of times. A horrible, inescapable dichotomy. Being with Joey had been a constant struggle. If he was not fighting against Dawson and her history with him, Pacey was fighting against himself or Joey and her bright and brilliant future. Pacey had told Joey, many years ago, that when she had chosen him that she had wrecked him. He had no lied.

Nine years later and Pacey Witter was still wrecked.

Maybe that was why when she stood before him – elegant, poised and beautiful – brimming the excitement of first success, he had been cool, calm, collected and even a little disdainful. Maybe that was why he had made the proposal. He wanted to rattle her as much as her very presence had rattled him. He wanted to demonstrate his power, his success; all achieved without her. He wanted to be the better man and not just the better man in comparison to Dawson but the better man compared to any other man she had and would have met.

And maybe Pacey had made the proposal because he still wanted her. Not that he ever expected to Joey to take up his offer. Still the proposal had had its desired effect. She had been rattled. She had been upset. And best of all it had made her remember. The flush in her cheeks, her cloudy eyes – she remembered him. She remembered them. Their bodies flush and on top of each other as they placed feverish kisses on heated skin. The warm wetness as he slid inside of her, filling her. The passionate nights. The lust. The desire. The love.

She had remembered. Just like it was his fate to remember. Pacey continued to refill his glass until the bottle was empty. He crashed onto his leather couch and was haunted by the memories.

*****

It was around 5am when Dawson came home. His breath smelt of alcohol and his clothes reeked of smoke. And his conscience was heavy. He had quickly ducked into the bathroom as soon as he arrived home, washing away all evidence of an indiscretion.

Now as he stared as his wet face in the mirror, he tried to find some sort of recognition or resemblance of the man he should have been. He could find nothing. Nothing in his life was as it should be. Dawson had always envisioned that by the age of twenty-seven he would be a famous director having won his first Oscar, living in a nice, big house in the suburbs with a cat and married to Joey who was expecting the birth of their first child (a son). Instead he was living in a nice but cramp apartment and he was a glorified errand boy for directors with no Oscar in sight. Nor was there any marriage, a cat or a pregnancy. The only thing that was concordant with Dawson’s childhood vision for the future was Joey. And even then…

His thoughts wandered to the blonde and her incredible mouth. In some ways she reminded Dawson of Eve. A smile crept on Dawson’s face as he fondly recollected the memories.

“Dawson? Is that you?” Joey asked sleepily as she approached the bathroom.

“Yes. It’s me.” Guilt washed over him once more and he tried to squash it back. What was Joey doing still up? Had she been waiting for him? Did she know? “What do you want?” His tone was harsh.

"Dawson, I don't want to fight." Her voice was soft bordering on apologetic.

Her tone soothed him, comforted him and the panic subsided and reason set in. Of course Joey didn’t know about the blonde and even if she did what would it matter? After all the woman had meant nothing and she was the one who had seduced him. Caught him during a moment of weakness. When he was vulnerable and drunk. Besides Dawson wouldn’t have been drunk in the first place if it hadn’t been for that stupid function, those insulting idiots and Joey. So it wasn’t really his fault. In fact when you analyzed the facts it was really Joey’s. So she should be the one who was apologizing, not Dawson.

"And maybe I do." He answered belligerently.

“I’m sorry about what happened tonight Dawson.” She was met with silence so Joey decided to continue talking. “I shouldn’t have dragged you to the gallery in the first place. I shouldn’t have placed you in that position.”

“Yes it was.” Dawson forgave grudgingly.

Dawson didn’t question too deeply why he had been so upset tonight. He wasn’t ready to admit to himself that Joey’s success was irking him. Dawson was glad that she was succeeding. He was. And yet at the same time he had never expected Joey to be more successful that him. Let alone that he might be a failure while Joey became the star that shone brightly. Even financially Joey was more solvent and higher paid. It was not an easy pill to swallow especially considering Dawson’s ego.

In many ways a lot of things depended on money. Dawson having money. If he had money then Dawson could direct his own films, and inevitably become famous and gain recognition and several Oscars. Of course even with Joey’s newly enjoyed success she did not have the money to finance such an enterprise and the banks were refusing loans on what they deemed a ‘risky enterprise’.

He gathered his dirty clothes and walked out of the bathroom to place them in the laundry basket. Joey followed him out of his bathroom and disappeared into her bedroom before reappearing with the outfit from tonight. She was just dumping her dress into the laundry basket when a card fell to the ground. Dawson picked it up.

“What is this?”

Joey hesitated; wavering between indecision; telling and not telling. "Dawson, I met Jay Everitt tonight. After you left the gallery."

"Jay Everitt as in the Jay Everitt?" Dawson asked incredulously.

"Jay Everitt as in the Jay Everitt. You know he even offered me ten million dollars to spend the night with him.” Joey mentioned casually.

Dawson laughed incredulously. “Yeah right. He could have any woman he wanted in this world. Gorgeous, leggy, blonde supermodels. Why would he proposition you? Let alone offer you ten million for one night of sex?”

Something in Dawson’s tone rubbed Joey the wrong way although perhaps it was just an excuse, because despite all rationale she wasn’t willing to reveal to Dawson that Jay Everitt was also Pacey Witter. So instead she bit his head off. “Are you saying that I’m not pretty enough? That I’m not worth ten million?”

“Just be realistic Joey. No guy’s going to offer ten million for you. It’s just not done. It’s something straight out of ‘Indecent Proposal’!”

“I thought you believed that life emulated movies and movies emulated life?”

“I do. But this is just ridiculous.” Dawson replied and then headed for his bedroom.

*****

A week later and nothing had been discussed of the proposal; it had been forgotten by Dawson. Or so Joey had thought. What she didn’t know was that three morning ago Dawson had received a phone call. A small company, Cloud Nine, was interested in one of Dawson’s scripts and wanted him to direct and make a movie out of it. Dawson had estimated that the movie would cost around $6 million to make but the company was only willing to front a small amount of that. Dawson had to somehow come up with slightly $6 million. The $10 million offer made by Jay Everitt swirled in his mind. Dawson pondered and thought. He agonized and reflected and rationalized. Dawson made a few inquiry phone calls. He spoke to a few lawyers.

A week later and it was the weekend. The sun was shining and the birds were chirping when Joey woke up. Glancing at the clock she saw that it was almost lunch time and slowly dragged herself out of bed. After washing up and changing she entered the kitchen to find Dawson cooking lunch and whistling.

"Dawson?" Joey queried. He looked happier than he had in years.

"Hey honey." Dawson greeted her with a peek on the cheek. "Are you feeling hungry? I've made lunch."

"So I can see." Joey glanced at the large assortment of foods. "What's the occasion?"

"Nothing special." Dawson beamed at her. "I just thought it'd be nice to sit back and relax and enjoy the day as a couple. Maybe go on a little shopping trip after. There's some new camera equipment I would like to buy. And I was thinking we could go scope out the city for some nice place where I can film."

"A nice place to film? You’re making a movie?" Joey asked excitedly.

Dawson chuckled. "Yes I am. And no low budget, cheap film for me either."

“How? When?"

"When? As soon as possible. How? Well I’ve become a millionaire."

“You won the lottery?” Was Joey’s first guess.

“Something like that. Just think of me as ten million dollars richer.”

It took a second for Joey to make the association, then the glass of juice that Joey was holding tumbled out of her hand and onto the floor. "You did what? You spoke to Jay Everitt?"

"Well first I spoke to his secretary and then his lawyer but in the end, yes, I did speak to Jay Everitt. The papers are arriving via courier yesterday. All we have to do is sign." Dawson spoke calmly; the tone of a man who had long since decided on his course of action and would not be deterred. His decision had been based on various factors. One of the weightier ones was the plain simple belief that he deserved the money. Dawson had faced adversity. He had struggled and despaired that his genius would never be recognized. And finally, finally he had been given his break. Just like all the heroes in the movies. In Dawson’s mind it was no coincidence that Jay Everitt’s offer and Cloud Nine’s offer had coincided. In fact it had been perfectly scripted and now all Dawson had to do was accurately perform his role.

"You spoke to Jay? You agreed to sell me for ten million dollars? Without my consent?" Joey fumed.

"I need the money Joey." Dawson reasoned. "And if I don't have a problem with it then neither should you."

“But it is me that’s going to be the one having sex for money. Like some high-priced whore!”

“Joey that one night won’t mean that you’re a whore. You’re so much better than that. I know it. You know it. And Jay Everitt knows it. That’s why he offered ten million for you. And Joey, don’t think this was an easy decision for me. After all you are my girlfriend. The woman I plan to spend the rest of my life it. It isn’t easy to allow you to go off and have sex with another man, especially when we haven’t… But the thing is, the ten million for that one night can mean the rest of our future. We won’t have any financial problems after this. We can get married and move out of this cramp apartment into the house we’ve always dreamed of. I can make my film and get the recognition I deserve. You don’t want to deny me that, do you?” There was an implicit underlying tone that Joey owed Dawson. He paused and softened his stance. “You don’t want to deny us that, do you?

He took out a parcel, pulled out several the papers and handed the papers to Joey. She glanced down at them and noted that Dawson’s signature was already scrawled on the dotted line.

“Dawson, it’s not that I want to deny you or us anything. It’s just…I’m not going to do it. I can’t do it." Joey’s voice was strong and determined hiding the desperation within.

Dawson's eyes grew cold once more. "I should have known this would happen. I can't believe how selfish you're acting. It's all right for you to have success but you won't even let me have my chance. A chance that I deserve. I've earned this Joey. This ten million rightfully belongs to me. To us. It's our future. And it'll only be one night. It won't mean anything. Not in the long term. We can just forget it ever happened and be ten million dollars richer for it.”

Part of Joey wanted to scream that sleeping with Jay Everitt could possibly mean everything. Because Jay Everitt was Pacey Witter and, a long time ago, sex with Pacey had meant everything to Joey. And if she did spend the night with Pacey, Joey knew she would never forget. She couldn’t possibly forget and the ten million dollars would always act as a reminder; not that she needed one. She opened her mouth to explain all of this Dawson but no sound came out. She couldn’t say a word.

“Joey?”

She wondered if Dawson knew who Jay Everitt really was. Joey thought not, otherwise Dawson would have never agreed to the proposal. Unless he was so desperate for the money that he didn’t care.

“Joey, honey?” Dawson held a ball pen out and waited for her to sign the paper.

She glanced into his eyes and her hands shook as she read the terms of the agreement. Ten million dollars. It was after all ten million dollars for just one night. And it wouldn't be something she hadn't done before. Dawson was right and he needed the money. Besides after everything that Dawson had done for her – his unconditional friendship, his love, the money for her college tuition – she owed him. And…and part of Joey wanted the one night with Jay Everitt. Part of her wanted it so much she could feel his hands all over her body, his feverish kisses and the way he had felt inside of her some nine years ago. She closed her eyes then opened them and quickly scrawled her name on the various dotted lines.

It was in writing now. They had agreed. Ten million dollars for Joey to spend one night with Jay Everitt. Pacey Witter.

Dawson beamed and kissed Joey on the lips. "You're the best honey. Why don't you finish lunch and then we can go out shopping. And we can post this package at the first post box we see.”