Morningstar Manor

Two weeks of tedious, humiliating and utterly boring and frustrating sick leave behind him, Thomas still had his leg and arm in a cast. His side didn't hurt with every move he made anymore, though, so that was a good sign of his ribs healing. It probably had something to do with being stuck in a wheelchair and not exerting himself in any way.

He had also found that sweatpants were actually rather comfortable and easy, but he did keep to quality brands of course. And he had also grown a moustache just to amuse himself.

Thomas realized that every single day he spent his time mostly reading or watching films or sleeping - only waiting for the bonita to come and see him. He even expected Lucas, because even he was good for a distraction and to stimulate his mind. Thomas had slowly come to realize what life was like for people who were old, or invalids, or otherwise unfortunate that they were lonely and at the same time depending on other people. Thinking about it made Thomas mostly silent and sulky.

On Tuesday evening Thomas was looking at the clock on his DVD player, like he did every day, anticipating the highlight of his day. He knew that around this time Jazz got off from work, which meant it wouldn't take very long for her to show up.

Thomas had been complaining for the whole day - how he couldn't even dress properly on his own, how he felt like an old vegetable of a grandpa when Lucas pushed him in his wheelchair out of the hospital, how his side hurt when he did absolutely anything thanks to the broken bones, how impractical the casts on his right leg and right arm were. How come there weren't any waterproof casts yet, hmm?

Finally when Lucas and Jazz got him to the Manor and up on the 12th floor to his apartment, Thomas fell into a grumpy silence. He realized that this was his prison now for the next weeks, and Lucas and Jazz would be the guards.

"Come on, grumpypants! Your home with your wines and cigars again!" Lucas said overly enthusiastically to cheer Thomas up, and patted his shoulders firmly.

"Aww fuck that hurt," Thomas grunted. Yes indeed, even his left collarbone had been broken.

It was lunch time at the hospital when Jazz arrived, the serving carts moving slowly up and down the hall as she passed by on her way to Tom's room. A thick, over-done scent washed over her and she imagined lumps of misshaped meat in puddles of greasy gravy.

Grimacing, she reached her destination just in time to see a nurse set similarly scented tray down in front of Tom.

Seeing Tom's face she wondered if there was a way to avoid the incoming firworks and save the nurse, or if she should just sit back and enjoy the show.

The test results had come in on Sunday morning, and shown that there was a chance that Thomas might, with time, recover with no permanent damage. The doctors spoke rather carefully about it, though, emphasizing that it was only a chance.

Thomas had finally stirred to some stages of consciousness during Sunday, but he had not made any sense. He had been mostly throwing up, and apparently couldn't even focus his eyes properly. He had always fallen back to unconsciousness soon after, however. Lucas had been around with Jazz on Sunday, constantly sighing worriedly and unable to concentrate on anything.

Thomas had his own room where he lay monitored. His right leg and arm were both in cast, and he still had a neck support too, and he had broken his left collarbone and several ribs as well.

On Monday Lucas had to go to work, but when Jazz arrived to the hospital, a little surprisingly there was a bunch of beautiful flowers on Thomas's bedside, and the doctor was there to meet her before she was even let into his room.

The cut on her ear had been checked and found to be more dramatic looking than it actually was. It had clotted on the ride over from Morningstar and the nurse here had done nothing more than cleaned it and dabbed some antiseptic on before sending Jazz away to the waiting room where, she'd been told, someone would be along to talk to her about Tom.

Tom.... Her chest constricted, the heavy weight that had taken up on her intensifying. He'd still been unconscious, lying so pale and still, when the ambulance had arrived at the hospital and they'd whisked him out of sight without a word to her. And she still had yet to hear anything now.
( Read more... )
She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes as more tears threatened, telling herself to stay strong until she at least heard something. But behind her eyelids she saw herself back in the mailroom, just a few days ago, showing Tom the poster for the party and heard him saying he didn't want to go.

If only she'd listened! If only she'd left it be....

Guilt touched her soul and she knew she'd never able to forgive herself.

As the sun was casting the first yellow-orange rays of sunset down on the city streets a sleek and gleaming amethyst colored car swung into Morningstar's garage and glided along smoothly to its usual parking spot. The engine purred to a stop and there was a moment's pause before the driver side door popped open and a pair of long legs swung out.

Jazz scooped her bag from the passenger seat and hit the lock button - the car responded with a cheery beep - before closing the door and striding away. As she crossed the garage, she dug in her bag, checking for the third time that she had indeed remembered to grab her flashdrive from the computer before leaving the lab.

If she lost the paper she'd been working on she might just kill someone.

The air inside apartment 229 was thick with savory smells of food when Jazz got home after a slow day at work. In the kitchen food (and a sink of dirty dishes) was waiting, along with a note from Cleo.

Emma Brooks invited me to dinner with her family, but I didn't want you to feel left out! So here's all the best in Irish dining made just for you! xxKissesxx - Cleo

Fanning herself gently with the note, Jazz looked between the food and the dishes, appreciating the thought but wondering if it was really worth it. There was a lot of food there and with the dirty dishes waiting....She wrinkled her nose and started to sigh - but then had an idea. She knew what would make this better!

Putting the note aside she opened the cupboards and starting pulling out Tupperware dishes and lids. It didn't take her long to get the goods packed up and stored away in a basket for easy carrying. After a quick change into a simple, olive colored dress (seemed Rhiannon had been right about there being at least one shade of green Jazz could wear) she picked up the basket and headed out into the hall, hitting the call button for the elevator when she got close enough.

While she waited she used her phone to send a text to Tom.

Happy Saint Patrick's Day, handsome - wanna help me fill my 'kiss me I'm Irish' quota?

She'd known she'd have to face the music sooner or later, so when Tom told Jazz they'd be meeting Beatrice for coffee at the Auberge on Sunday she accepted it as her due without compliant.

Besides, the weekend had been too good - Tom seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed his belated Valentine's gift, Emily's party had been smashing, she wasn't suffering from too bad a hangover, and tomorrow Beatrice would be taking herself and her attitude back where she came from - to let whatever Tom's sister may or may not have to say ruin it.

Under that mood, Jazz spent the whole trip to the coffee shop doing her damnedest to make Tom laugh. Even going so far as to do an over-the-top imitation of his sister as they approached the cafe.

"Isn't it just darhling, darling? Those curtains - so kitsch! I should have ones just like them put in the entry way."

Lucas was glad to leave his mother and sister to Thomas's care as they all came back down to the lobby from their apartment on the 12th floor. Lucas zipped up his jacket and left for work while the three others headed to have the Mocha. Thomas was starting to feel rather nervous but tried his best to act cool, even though he couldn't help but keep an eye out for Jazz. She wasn't supposed to be in yet but you never knew of that rather mischievous woman.

"Lillian," Thomas called to get the girl to follow them into the coffeeshop instead of stare at the couple of security men in the lobby in a way that a 16-year-old only does when she sees fit men in tailored uniforms.

"Aren't you a little too young for that?" Thomas asked her gritting his teeth together.

"What?" the girl asked and shrugged. She walked past him to examine the muffins and cookies. "I was just looking. Besides, I have a boyfriend."

"Really?" Thomas's voice dropped to a low disbelief and he glanced at Beatrice.

"They go to school together," Beatrice said in a very approving manner. "Tom's father is a bank manager."

Even Lillian got an accetable boyfriend. Thomas was already considering taking Beatrice to the Auberge instead and was already making up excuses in his head how to explain it to Jazz, but Lillian was already placing her order to Joy, and Beatrice followed. He couldn't help but give in to his fate, and eventually carried a tray of coffee and cakes to a table readying himself to the appearance of his bonita.

On Tuesday a package was delivered to Vincenzo by a very careful deliveryman - apparently what ever was in it, was rather delicate.

( Thanks. )

"Is that what you're wearing?" Thomas gaped at Lucas as the boy came out of his room wearing what he usually did - Vans shoes with a skull print, faded and worn skinny jeans hanging low, a grey long sleeved shirt with a black and red punk band t-shirt on top of it, with a scarf around his neck.

"What?" Lucas asked innocently. "The tattoos don't show!"

"Your mother is going kill me. I was supposed to make a man out of you, and now look at you!"

"Oh come on, you haven't even tried," Lucas snorted and started pulling his jacket on. "Why are you so afraid of her?"

"You'll get a good reminder of why as soon as we go to the Empress and you get to meet your dear mother and sister for the first time in two years," Thomas answered ominuously. "Beatrice will be perfectly amicable, until after a few days when she gets a good chance to embarrass me properly in front of someone who knows me. Mark my words."

( Family reunion - Lunch at the Empress )

Right beside the door numbered 229 was a big beautiful bouquet of long deep red roses leaning against the wall. Leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor was Thomas Avery, dressed in a characteristic black and silver suit. He had been there for about fifteen minutes, several times almost knocking on Jazz's door but then resorting to pacing up and down nervously, making frustrated sighs and groans. What the hell could he say? How on Earth could he ever fix this? His darling bonita would be utterly stupid to take him back after all he had done but... he could live with an utterly stupid Estrella, as long as she really did accept his apology. But what if she didn't?

In his mind he was preparing a speech of some sort to explain and apologise and beg and crawl, but nothing seemed good enough. Even I wouldn't take myself back, Jesus Christ, he thought to himself and continued pacing back and forth along the corridor.

It was ridiculously cold but somehow it felt good to Thomas. He took off one of his black leather gloves to use the lighter to light the cigarette between his lips.

It had been one hell of a week, and next week would be even more difficult. Beatrice would arrive on Monday with her insufferable daughter. The loss of his bonita pained him more than he wanted to admit, and it confused him all the more. He couldn't understand how she could love him of all people, and he didn't know what it meant. He felt like a fish out of water, and until he figured out what to do about the situation, he didn't know what else to do but to ignore it.

All the boxes had been emptied, and the ball room was full of clothes and clothes and clothes, on racks and on chairs and in stacks and in bags.

There were a few makeshift curtains between the pillars, and Lewis was hopping between them like a goblin, bringing new suggestions for outfits, or parading his makeshift models in front of a big mirror.

He was being followed by a calm woman in her fifties who was wordlessly scribbling on a large pad, Andras who was snapping the 'winning' outfits with a compact camera, and a little girl of about five who just gaped at everything and tried to stay out of the way.

When Andras almost fell over her, he just turned, grabbed her, put them on his shoulders before she could even squeal, and just carried on working as if she wasn't there.

Into the Mocha they went and Kris looked around, seeing a few of the gorgeous faces and bodies he had hoped to see, and he cleared his throat and tapped on a table to attract their attention.

"Um - ladies, gentlemen," he said, "we are in - frankly - awful trouble and are hoping some of you might be kind enough to help us out. The fact is - we have a designer and a complete collection of clothing but the photographer and all the models are stuck in Switzerland. So - would you be prepared to wear Lewis's clothes and have photos taken? What do you say?"

He looked round hopefully. "Anyone?"

Robbie stepped out of the Slaughtered Lamb and lit a cigarette as he headed towards the Manor. Once again he had played a game of pool and had only a couple of beers with someone he barely knew, and once again he was heading to his apartment that was too big for him, and there was no one waiting for him at home.

He was getting tired of being lonely, but he didn't really know how not to be lonely anymore.

*

Emily sat in the Mocha with a big coffee mug in her hands, and was flipping through some clothes magazines looking for dresses. The wedding magazines she had hidden in her apartment away from Vincenzo's eyes, but this time she was looking for a dress to the rumored Valentine's Day ball.

*

Thomas also stopped by in the Mocha in the evening after work. He carefully chose a blend of tea that he approved of and sat down by the window to watch people.

Too much to drink - waaayy too much to drink.

Jazz squeezed through the Manor's front doors - why couldn't she get the door open any further? - and tottered over to one of the arm chairs by the fireplace. Bracing herself on one by holding onto the overstuffed arm with a death grip she reached down with her free hand and pushed her spindly heeled pumps off. For a second she considered melting into the chair and just sleeping there, but no! No...she resisted it's siren call, fumbled with but managed to pick up her pumps, and weaved her way over to the elevator.

She hesitated, studying the button intently, then stabbed at the up button with her thumb. Then she waited, patiently, watching the glowing numbers above the doors come down slowly while her toes curled on the cold floor.

Even though she'd had to work and had needed a shower before changing, Jazz was still ready to go before Cleo.

Just a few more minutes! her sister insisted. That's all I need. But Jazz knew better. She spoke Cleo-ese. She told Cleo she'd meet her in the Lobby and headed downstairs to occupy herself with a cookie from the Mocha while she waited.

That had been ten minutes ago.

Now Jazz sat at one of the tables, doodling a very geometric (Jazz was not artist by any means) necklace design on the corner of a napkin.

(For gift giving and possible extras.)

(What it says in the tags.))