Episode 147

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Episode 147

Scene 1:

Jamie took a quick look around. Much better, he decided taking in the candles and smoky atmosphere. The last place he had been, House of Blues, was hot but this was more his speed. He headed towards the bar and ordered a beer waiting only a moment before a glass appeared before him. Thank god, it wasn't plastic, he thought randomly taking a seat next to an attractive brunette.

He liked New Orleans but something about the touristy nature of the French Quarter turned him off. Someone was playing piano...a nice quiet jazz number that soothed him and made this fruitless search a little less frustrating. Sipping his beer, Jamie let his eyes wander around the room. His eyes met those of another man decked out in leather and looking more than a little drunk as he approached the bar where Jamie was sitting. Bypassing Jamie, the lounge lizard hopped up on the barstool on the other side of the brunette.

"And I thought all the pretty girls were in the Quarter tonight," Jamie heard the man slur at the woman.

"They are," she responded with a slight tilt of her head. "You're just too drunk to notice I'm not one of them." At once, she seemed to dismiss the man's appearance, but that didn't dissuade him. He sidled up closer to her, his breath a stench that carried the length of the bar.

"Feisty," he slurred thickly, raising an unsteady hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I like fire in a woman."

She rolled her eyes, her gaze catching briefly on Jamie's as she lifted a glass to her lips and quickly downed the liquid within. "There," she muttered, shrugging the man's hand away. "Maybe that'll extinguish it."

Jamie grinned to himself but kept his eyes on the drunk. He didn't look like that would turn him off so easily. In fact, if Jamie had to guess, the guy had had a lot worse. Jamie took another drink and watched as the man continued for another moment, making a couple of suggestions that the lady didn't seem to like at all.

"You know, I'm a professional photographer," the man mentioned with a wink. When all she did was cast him an uninterested glance, he went on. "I could make you a star. You've definitely got what it takes to make it to the top. My studio is right around the corner. I bet you'd look great naked."

She coughed - choked, really - at his blatant comment. He, however, seemed completely unaware. Her face red with embarrassment, she looked to Jamie as if to ask, "Can you believe this guy?"

"Look, I'm really not interested," she sighed, but she seemed to be fighting a losing battle as his hand began to grope her again, this time falling heavily to her knee.

Jamie cleared his throat and set his beer down. "I don't think you should do that," he said to the man. "Why don't you leave her alone?"

"Who are you? Her fucking boyfriend?"

Jamie slid off his stool, laying a protective hand on the woman's shoulder. "Yeah, sure I am. Now get lost."

"No way, I was here first. You're not her boyfriend any more than I'm her dad," he replied returning to his groping. Jamie grabbed his hand and yanked the man off his stool, pushing him away from the woman. Tightening his grip on the man's wrist, he wrenched it backwards behind his back. "Owwww! Lemme go!" He howled.

"Are you going to leave her alone?"

"Yeah! Just get off me."

Jamie obliged pushing him away towards the door where he crept out like a wounded animal. He turned back to his neighbor at the bar and shrugged apologetically. "Sorry. I didn't think he would take no for an answer," he said picking up his beer.

"Thanks, but you really didn't have to do that," she told him haltingly, watching him warily as if trying to gauge his intentions.

"I know," Jamie replied, finishing his beer. He waved the bartender over and asked for another one, falling silent for the time being.

"No, I mean, really," she continued. "I can take care of myself." Despite her protests, she slide over further on her own barstool. "So, like, what?" she asked after he was quiet for a time. "Do you expect me to find a way to 'repay' you? Because if that's the case...."

"Um...no? I just thought you could use some help. I didn't mean to offend you," Jamie replied carefully, surprised at her suspicion of him.

She regarded him a moment more then sighed. "I'm sorry. You just never know who you're going to meet around here." She seemed to hesitate again, only to tuck her hair behind her ear and give a small shudder at the gesture much too reminiscent of the drunken jerk who'd just been pawing her.

Scene 2:

The doorbell startled Jory. He looked at the clock above the mantel, frowning at the time. Ten o'clock? That was a little late for anyone to be ringing the doorbell. He turned the television off and went to the front door, checking the peephole before answering. Georgia shivered on the porch, as a cold rain pelted the street beyond her. She was soaked to the skin, her hair plastered to the sides of her face.

"Georgia? What happened to you?" Jory asked pulling the door open immediately. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind her, reaching automatically for a sweater that someone, probably Maura, had left on the coat rack by the door.

"I-is my m-mother here?" Georgia asked through chattering teeth.

"No."

"G-good. I don't w-want her to s-see me like th-thi-this," Georgia muttered.

"You're not hurt are you?" He dropped the sweater around her shoulders and began rubbing her arms, trying to stop her shivering.

"No...not ph-ph-physically anyway."

"Christ, Georgia! What are you doing out in the pouring rain like that then? Are you trying to catch pneumonia?" He scolded roughly holding back what he really wanted to ask until she wasn't freezing to death in his hallway. "Come on, I think Maura has something you can wear." She followed him obediently up the stairs to Maura's room. She was in the process of packing but she had left a box of clothes that she had planned to give away open in the middle of the room. Jory rummaged through it, coming up with a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. "Do you want to take a hot bath or anything?"

"No," she answered taking the offered clothes. "I'll just change...thank you."

"No problem." He paused awkwardly wanting to say more, wanting to ask why she was soaked to the bone and on his doorstep. His eyes flickered over her, noting how her clothes clung to her tightly to her and how her eyes burned against her pale skin. "I'll make you something hot to drink....in the kitchen," he added uncomfortably and left the room quickly.

On the way down the stairs, he kicked himself mentally for being such an idiot. Georgia was his friend first and foremost. He was attracted to her, that much was true. And he cared a great deal for her. She was the one person when he had been in the hospital who hadn't condescended to him about his condition. It was just...well, he wasn't used to the way he was reacting to her.

If he were being honest with himself, before the fire at Mason Enterprises, he had thought himself to be a different kind of man. His family thought he was gay and accepted it. He'd had a few encounters with men. Nothing satisfying. And even a couple with women. Again, nothing to write home about. He'd never developed feelings for anyone though. Most of his adult life was spent taking care of the troubles of his siblings though now they didn't seem to need him anymore. Georgia needed him. And he was finding himself in the odd position of needing her as well. It wasn't something he thought at length about but it was there.

Scene 3:

"I'm Angelina," she introduced herself, holding out a hand to him.

He regarded the hand for a brief moment before accepting the handshake. "Nice to meet you. I'm Jamie," he replied. "And you're right. You do never know who you'll meet in a place like this. But I promise, I'm not anything like that guy." He glanced down at the wedding ring still on his finger. No, he wasn't even close to being in the market yet.

"I guess I'll just have to trust you on that." She followed his gaze but said nothing. "You definitely don't look like the type to hang around here. In fact, you've got a decidedly touristy look. So what's taken you from the beaten path? Most men prefer the strip clubs in the Quarter. Or did you not notice the giant Hustler sign on Bourbon?"

Jamie grinned. "Hard to miss, but that's not really my style. Besides, I really just wanted a beer if you can believe that. I tried a couple of clubs in the Quarter but they were a little too loud. This is much better."

Not his style, huh? Angelina gave him a once-over. He didn't look gay, but most of the good-looking ones were these days. Of course, she said none of this. "I prefer it here myself. Gives me space to think."

"I can see that," Jamie shrugged. "You come here often?" The words came out before he realized exactly what he had said. "That's not what I meant..."

"It's okay," she laughed. "Not too often, actually. Only when I get the chance. Usually, I'm too swamped by work. I'm lucky if I just get the chance to breathe."

"Yeah, know the feeling. Not that I've been to many bars in the last couple of years. But hey, here I am in New Orleans. I thought maybe I'd try something new." He shrugged slightly offering her a sardonic grin. "I doubt this is how all bar experiences are supposed to be like."

"Drunken lechers and bad lighting?" Angelina smiled as she canted her head to the side. "Seems like the norm to me. But then, I don't get out too often, as I've already established." She shrugged a little, her interest piqued. "So what brings you 'round these parts?"

"Business," he answered succinctly. "I'm trying to convince an old friend to come work for me. I thought it would be a piece of cake, but he's being a little resistant just now."

"Mmmm. Well, you should be more successful finding a bit of relaxing entertainment. I hope your entire trip isn't a bust. What is it that you do, if you don't mind my asking?"

"No, I don't mind at all. Right now, I'm running a hospital. I suppose you could call me an administrator, for lack of a better word." He was more than an administrator but the last thing he wanted to do was flaunt his family fortune. He was better than that. Besides, he didn't want to turn Angelina off by spouting off about his money and investments. Some things were better left unsaid.

"That sounds incredibly...interesting," she offered, biting back a grin. "I really don't have any room to talk. My job generally consists of a lot of research and hours logged in front of a computer."

"Sounds like fun," he returned sarcastically. "I think if we combined our jobs, we might have an interesting profession."

"Sounds like fun," he returned sarcastically. "I think if we combined our jobs, we might be have an interesting profession."

"Maybe what really counts is how you spend your time away from the office. In which case, I don't think we're doing so bad." Angelina pushed her empty glass around on the top of the bar. "Do you want to..." she hesitated with another smile and shook her head, as if to clear it of her sudden insane thought. "Nevermind."

"No, come on. What? Do I want to what?" He pressed.

"Ahhhh, no." Her laugh was a small, self-derisive sound. But in the next second, she continued anyway. "I was just wondering if you might want to get out of here. I know how that might sound. And I'm really not adept at picking up guys in bars, but...there's actually a lot more to New Orleans than strip clubs and alcohol. The latter just helps keep the edge off."

"You know, I think that would be-" His cell phone cut him off before he could answer. He pulled it out and looked at the number, raising an eyebrow at it. "Hang on," he said taking the call. "Hello? Yes, I remember you....has he? Well, that is an interesting development. When? All right. Tell me where." He reached for a pen and scribbled an address on a nearby napkin. "Tell him I'll be there," he added and ended the call. Tucking the phone back into his pocket, he glanced at Angelina apologetically. "I was going to say yes, you know."

"I guess I'll just have to trust you on that," she repeated her words from earlier, but she nodded her assent. "It was nice meeting you, Jamie. And I hope you have better luck with your friend this time around."

He slid off the stool and paused, dropping a couple of twenties on the bar for their drinks and the bartender. "Yes, me too. It was nice to meet you too, Angelina. Maybe you'll give me a raincheck on the rest of tonight?"

"Well, if you're ever in New Orleans again..." Angelina motioned around the darkened room and flashed him a bright grin, "you'll know where to find me."

He nodded and backed away from her, giving her a slight wave before turning around. For just the briefest of moments as he pushed the door open to the street outside, he had a fleeting thought that perhaps he had just missed out on something and someone pretty damned interesting. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of her on her cell phone. With that thought in mind, he stepped out into the humid New Orleans night determined to find her again after his business with Josh Manning was over. Just to see where the night could have gone.

Scene 4:

Jory filled the tea kettle and pulled out a mug and a tea bag from the cupboard. He was staring at the kettle waiting for its whistle to sound when she appeared in the doorway. He glanced over at her seeing that she had changed and appeared to be mostly dry. Her hair was still wet but she had toweled it off, soaking up the excess rainwater.

"A watched pot never boils," she remarked, leaning against the door jam.

"It's not a pot," he muttered averting his eyes for a moment. He needed a moment before he could look at her without showing her everything he was feeling. The whistle shrilled and he moved the kettle to a hot pad on the counter for a moment. "Tea all right?"

"Yes. Aren't you going to ask me what happened?"

"I assumed you would tell me when you were ready," he answered offering her the steaming cup. "But if you want me to, I will. Georgia, what happened to you tonight? Are you okay?"

She smiled at him, a trace of bitterness hidden in her dark eyes. "Technically? Yes, I'm all right. Pissed off and emotionally demolished but okay." She sat at the kitchen table and waited until he had joined her with a plate of cookies. She raised a questioning eyebrow at the cookies.

"Seemed appropriate," he shrugged in reply. "Now, why are you emotionally demolished?"

"Ian," she muttered. "What was I thinking Jory? He's nothing but a cruel, malicious user. I should have listened to you."

"What did he do?" Jory asked sharply. "He didn't touch you did he?"

"You mean hit me? No. I may be a fool when it comes to men, but I'm not so stupid as to let one lay a hand on me. I saw enough of that with my parents to last a lifetime." She picked up a cookie and bit into it. "He's just mean. I hate him, Jory."

"Do you? Hate him I mean? Because a few days ago...well, at the funeral for Dr. Stafford you looked like you were pretty much in love with him," Jory noted, feeling a twinge of jealousy at the memory of how she had looked at Ian that day.

"How could I love a man who admitted that he only wanted me for the sex? I can't love someone like that!" She protested hotly. "I think...I think I just wanted to be in love so badly that I made him into something he wasn't. Something he never could be."

"What did he say to you?"

"Oh you know, standard stuff. He was just in for the sex and he was bored with me. Called me a nag. Can you believe that?" She shook her head and rolled her eyes unbelievingly.

"If it means anything at all," Jory began, reaching out a hand to cover hers. The contact of his hand on hers made his stomach fall away nervously. Swallowing hard, he continued, "If it means anything at all, I think Ian is an idiot. He doesn't know you at all."

She eyed him sharply. "That's funny. He told me you didn't know me either." She uttered a brittle laugh. "And I think you know me best of all." She inched her chair over to his and leaned closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Jory's heart lurched at the intimate gesture. It felt good though. It felt right. He smoothed a stray tendril away from her face and let her cry on his shoulder. Ian McCormick was a grade A jerk. He was just thankful that Georgia had seen it before she was too involved. At least now, he thought, he could see where these feelings for Georgia were heading.