Chapter 77: There is a Light

"I love your hair this way," Justin says softly, nuzzling her neck.

"I hope so," Eleanor laughs, "You're the one who styled it." His teeth graze her ear as his hands move over her body, one up to her breasts, the other down, sliding beneath her panties.

"You can't seduce me," she says sternly, turning to face him.

"I can always seduce you," he says, his voice low, growling, as he presses her against the wall, holding her hand so she can't resist. Not that she'd ever put up any real resistance; it's all part of their game.

When she sighs her submission, he frees her hands so he can remove her underwear. Her skin is still damp from the shower. "You'll mess up my make up," she complains as his lips covers hers.

"You can do it again," he answers, lifting her up, holding her thigh as he thrusts inside her, "We can do this all night."

Justin's ploy ultimately failed. Eleanor would not be persuaded from getting her dress on and rushing them out to her gallery for the opening. His opening, as she chose to show his work for the gallery's debut. He didn't really expect the seduction to work beyond maybe making them late, but it was worth a try. And he put a glow on her face, so she'll she shines on her big night.

"You look radiant, Eleanor," Gavin says, arriving just after the gallery opens, "This is Regan Foster, my girlfriend." Regan throws him a wry glance as he trips over the introduction. Maybe announcing her as his partner was a little presumptuous, as he hadn't discussed it with her ahead of time. But he'd rather err onn that side of things than make the mistake of labeling her a 'friend'.

While Eleanor mingles, Justin stands off on his own, avoiding any contact and above all not looking at his prints on the wall. He reminds himself that he used to do fetish shows, that he'd worked as a dancer, that he's no stranger to public display. But those performances were different somehow, he never exposed like he does now, watching people looking at the pictures he made, his 'art' as Eleanor calls it, sizing it up and even buying it.

"I'm sorry about two art dates in a row," Gavin apologizes again. Regan had suggested their next date be completely unrelated to art or theater, but their schedules made it impossible to have a date before the gallery opening.

"Well, you couldn't miss the opening of your own gallery," Regan says with a light laugh, "Given the choice between an art date or staying home and letting you go by yourself, I'd rather be with you. And, besides, attending these sorts of events are what girlfriends are for, right?' she teases.

"I should have asked..." Gavin starts, but she shushes him with a light kiss.

"Don't apologize," she says, "As long as you understand that being my boyfriend means you have to be there for the opening night of any play I'm in, no matter how small my part."

"I would never miss any performance of yours," Gavin says.

"That's good," she laughs, "The toilet paper commercial I shot last month is premiering this week, and I expect you to stay glued to the TV any time it comes on."

Amongst the milling crowd, Justin spots Alison.

When she sees him, she approaches.

"Change your mind about wanting your money?" he asks. She's here for Gavin, of course, they work on the same movie, and Justin can't imagine any other reason for her to talk to him.

"No, I don't even have time to spend the money I make, I don't need yours," she says, her voice heavy.

"So, what do you want?" Justin asks bluntly, "Not the pleasure of my company, I'm sure."

"Actually, that is all I want," Alison says, "I know, it sounds crazy, given the fact that you stole my rent money and my car. But, you remind me of home."

"I wasn't in New York for more than a year," Justin points out.

"I know," she says, "But you were there during what, in retrospect, was the happiest time of my life."

"You aren't serious," Justin says, "You were a student, scrounging for every cent you had, just waiting for your chance to work in films. And now here you are, living your dream."

"Yeah, she says with a wry smile, "My dreams seemed a lot better when they were still just dreams."

"This work, it coms from a dark place," Carey Burden says, never quite meeting her eyes, "And yet, there is a light, isn't there? I'll take the whole series. My assistant will work out the details of purchase." And with that, the acclaimed director wanders off, leaving Eleanor slightly confused, but extremely pleased. Having someone like Burden buying his work will be a huge boost for Justin's career, and for her gallery as his representative.

"You're the artist," the redhead says, her voice deliberately low and whispery. She's got the sex dialed up to eleven, Justin thinks. "Your work is just fabulous. Amazing," she purrs, standing too close to him, "I'd love to get to know you better."

"No," Justin says simply.

"Do you know who I am?" she asks, her voice rising shrilly.

"No, and I don't want to," Justin growls, becoming annoyed by her invasion into his personal space, "Now, fuck off."

She stomps off in a huff, with a mumbled threat about him never working in this town again. Like he cares.

Eleanor returns to him as the party winds down and the gallery begins to empty. She starts to tell him how successful the night was, how many prints she's sold, but he stops her mid-sentence "The less I know about the business, the better," he says, trying not to think about his pictures decorating the walls of other people's homes. 'I'm happy for you," he whispers, kissing  her ear, "That's enough."

"You really pissed off Marilyn Hennessey," Eleanor says with a smile.

"The pushy redhead?" Justin asks, "Was she someone important?" Not that it would have made a difference to him; Justin kisses no one's ass, no matter how high and mighty.

"Not as important as she thinks she is," Eleanor laughs, "And if she throws a public tantrum, it will only increase the interest in your work."

"I wish I understood why I'm falling so hard for you," Regan sighs.

"Do you really need to understand it?" Gavin asks, "You can't just let it happen?"

"I couldn't stop it from happening," she says, "I just have to wonder how I got here."

"Kiss me," he says, pulling her up into his lap. She leans forward, meeting her lips to his, taking his sweet tongue into her mouth.

He rises, takes her hand and leads her into his bedroom. "Will you stay with me?" he asks.

At this particular moment, Regan doesn't need a reason, doesn't need to think about where this came from or where it's going. "Yes," she whispers.

She'd fought against her attraction for him from the first, and now that she's let go of the fight, she's pulled in all the harder, drawn to be with him, to take him and make him her own.

"You have the softest skin," he murmurs as they fall into bed together, wrapped around each other.

She looks up into his eyes and sees herself reflected in them. "I think this is going to work," she whispers, "We're so different, but we fit."

Gavin smiles. "Like we were made for each other."

Red Handed: 8 Photos by Justin

Red Handed: A Series of 8 Photos by Justin Sheridan

I was going to wait to release these when I published the chapter featuring Justin's art show opening, which was supposed to happen tomorrow. But, as I went through the pictures I've shot for the story, I realize I don't really have what I need and I'll have to go back and work on that before I can publish a new chapter. So, I decided to go ahead and release the pictures early since that at least is ready to go.

The series is 8 different images in one package; each image is a preset option on the original. They cost 750 simoleons each in game. The picture above are the actual images, below are some in game screenshots of them hanging in the gallery. Download is from Mediafire. I also plan to make some paintings for Gavin, which I will also make available for download.

DOWNLOAD

Special Thanks of course to Inge and Peter Jones, for s3oc and Texture Tweaker Tool, and to Orangemittens for the tutorial, here

Chapter 76: A Normal Life

Hours before the night's show,  Nico and Randall do a sound check, leaving Jacklyn behind in their hotel. In honor of their album's name, Pink Hell, Randall has decorated his kit with pink flames, and Jacklyn has added pink streaks to her hair, but Nico drew the line at playing a pink guitar.

"You're the Eye-talian."

Nico looks up from adjusting his pedals at the speaker, the long drawl in his voice reminding him that they're in Texas today. They've been touring for months, and it's easy to forget where you are. "I'm an Italian," he answers, somewhat irritably, and gets back to fiddling with his stomp boxes, making sure everything is perfect for the show later.

"You gonna make an honest woman of my daughter?" the Texan continues.

Nico looks up again, this time really seeing the man. Dwayne Austen is a celebrity, and even though Nico is not a real fan of the country genre, he knows his work, and his face. But the last pictures he's seen were of a younger man, and it takes a few moments to recognize the country star in the man standing in front of him.

"Well?" Dwayne insists, stepping onto the stage.

"That's really none of your business," Nico says, laughing inwardly at the thought of an old fashioned American shotgun wedding. In his case, though, it's the bride who remains reluctant to walk down that aisle, Nico has always been ready to 'make her an honest woman'.

"My daughter--"

"Does what she wants," Nico cuts him off. The closer he gets, the stronger the smell of whiskey on his breath. Jacklyn wasn't kidding when she told him her father had a serious drinking problem.

"I have a right to see my granddaughter," Dwayne says truculantly.

Nico sighs, "Look, I have work to do here. I'll talk to Jacklyn. That's all I can do for you."

Dwayne seems to accept that, as he moves off the stage, turning around once to call out, "You treat my baby right, you hear?"

Nico shakes his head sadly. "Better than you," he mutters.

The tour couldn't be put off forever, but Jacklyn and Nico didn't want to leave Trillare behind to be raised by strangers. Randall wasn't eager to leave Stacey home alone with their newborn, Philip, either, and that created the perfect solution. Stacey was hired as the official nanny of the tour, so both couples could bring their babies along.

"This will probably get harder when the kids get older," Stacey muses as they sit for a moment, the infants tucked into their cribs and sleeping, "They'll need tutors when they're school age...you grew up like this, didn't you, Jack? Was it hard? Did you ever wish you just had a normal life?"

Jacklyn remembers living from hotel to hotel, every day a new city, a new set of walls to look at. Home was a place you'd only visit a few weeks out of the year. "I wished for a lot of things, Stacey," Jacklyn says, "But I couldn't even imagine what a 'normal life' was supposed to look like."

"I had a normal life," Stacey giggles, "I hated it. But I worry about raising our kids this way, you know? But you came out of it okay..."

"Well, no worse than anyone else, I guess," Jacklyn says.

With the babies asleep, Jacklyn leaves them to Stacey's supervision and goes back to her own room to rest before the show. As she undresses before the mirror, she stops to give her body a thorough examination. Are her tits lower than they used to be? she wonders, worrying about the toll having a baby has taken on her body.

She takes her breasts in her hands, lifting them to where she's sure they used to stand. Definitely sagging, she sighs.

"You need some help with that?" Nico asks, walking in on her.

"Oh, hey," she laughs, embarrassed to be caught like this, "I was just..."

"Feeling yourself up? Yeah, I saw that," Nico laughs, stepping behind her and pulling her back so her ass rest against his crotch, "Do you mind if I join you? Or I'll just sit over there and watch you play with yourself."

"I wasn't playing with myself," she laughs, "Do my tits look okay to you?"

"I don't know," he answers, reaching around to cup one of her beasts in his hands, at the same time grinding his pelvis against her. "Well, that still works," he whispers as she feels him get hard behind her. "Your tits are more than okay, baby," he murmurs against her neck.

 "Nico," she sighs, getting as turned on as he is.

He undresses and carries her over to the bed.

"Whatever you're worried about, don't," he whispers, kissing her breasts as she wraps her legs around him, "I love you. That's forever."

"We're going to have to start being more careful," she sighs as she collapses down onto his chest, "Or we'll end up with another baby." She's tried the pill and subdermal implants, but the hormones give her terrible mood swings, so they've had to rely on other methods of birth control, but condoms or a diaphragm only work when you actually use them before having sex, and remembering to take care of that is something neither she or Nico have the presence of mind for.

"Would that be so terrible?" Nico asks, "I'm not saying we should be trying for another baby. But if it happens..."

"Things are crazy enough with just one baby," she says.

"I'd like to be married before becoming a father again, anyway." he says quietly. Jacklyn stays quiet, avoiding this conversation again. He's worked hard to prove himself to her, always lets her know where he is when they aren't together, and when they are, his attention is always hers as he tries to earn his way back into her trust. Maybe she's worried that once she says 'I do' things will change, he'll take her for granted. That's what she tells herself when the doubts creep in that make her shy away from the commitment he's asked of her. But deep down, she's knows it's not him she's afraid of, it's herself.

"I met your father today," Nico says, only remembering his encounter with Dwayne after they've showered and started getting dressed.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" she asks.

"I was going to tell you as soon as soon as I got in. But I got distracted," Nico laughs, "He wants to meet Trill."

"Was he drunk?" she asks bitterly.

"He'd been drinking," Nico answers.

"You can't seriously want him near our daughter."

"That's not up to me, Jack. He's your father. I'm just relaying the message."

"That bastard," she says, grinding her teeth, "He knows I won't let him near me or Trill, so he's trying to use you as a go between."

"Baby, I'm on your side, here," Nico says gently, "Don't let him get to you like that."

"I spent my whole childhood wanting him out of my life," she sighs, getting up to wrap herself in Nico's arms, "Why can't he just stay out?"

Chapter 75: More than Friends

"It's a painting of someone painting a model," Regan observes, "Kind of breaks the fourth wall, doesn't it?"

"I don't think Matisse would have put it that way, but it's true, though his work predates modernism, the post-impressionists do have a lot in common with the post-modernists in the way they present reality and engage the viewer in critical thought about the nature of art itself," Gavin answers. 

Regan shifts her weight from one foot to the other while she tries to find a response.

"I'm sorry," Gavin apologizes with a laugh, "This won't be on the exam, I promise."

Regan giggles. "You used to teach, didn't you?"

"I was a TA as a grad student. And it's apparently done permanent damage to my personality; I can't take a date to a museum without giving an art history lecture. I hope I'm not boring you."

"Not at all," she answers. When he asked to come to a Matisse show at LACMA, she had at first thought is was part of his self-absorbed celebrity thing. He obviously didn't care whether she was interested in art or what she'd like to do. But she went anyway, and is glad now that she did. "I never really thought much about art before. Seeing it with you has actually been enlightening." It wasn't long into their trip through the world of Matisse that she discovered his motives were far less selfish than she thought. Since they met, they've spent all their time together in her world, rehearsing their scenes, attending the actor's workshop, watching her performance in Lysistrata. Bringing her here was an invitation into his world, and she's learning more about him than about the paintings he shows her.

"I wonder where that door leads," she muses, looking down into the bamboo garden in the center of the museum's lobby.

"It goes to a hallway that leads out into the grounds. There's a utility closet and an employee washroom, too," Gavin tells her. "When I interned here, I had to clean out the garbage people would toss down there."

"I've never understood why you got into acting," Regan says, "You can't really have done it because your girlfriend wanted you to do it..."

"No, it wasn't that simple," Gavin says, "Carey seemed really intent on my playing Dream. He had this energy, this intensity. And with Tori pressing me in that direction as well, it just seemed like the call of dharma, you know? That this was meant to be."

Regan tries not to laugh, but she can't suppress it. "I'm sorry," she says, "It's just, you gave up what you wanted to do to become a, well, mediocre, movie actor. And you're talking about it like it was some grand destiny."

"I didn't day it was grand destiny, only that it's mine," Gavin answers, "And being an actor may not be my purpose at all, only the means of achieving it. There is a reason for everything that happens."

A smile plays over her lips. "And what do you think is the great purpose behind your starring in Carey's movie?"

"I don't know that, Regan, and I may never know it. But, I did meet you," Gavin answers, turning her around to face him as he holds her close against the railing, "And you have helped me find who I am, and become my better self. If being here, now, with you is the only purpose behind my becoming an actor, then that is more than enough of a destiny for me."

Regan doesn't believe in dharma or destiny, the universe is chaotic and has no purpose. But it doesn't matter whether it was chance or fate that brought them together, here and now, the only thing that matters is what you do with what life throws at you. He tried to kiss her once before, she remembers, and she pushed him away. Her second chance is mere moments away, his lips move closer to hers as his arms tighten around her waist, and this tim, she's going to go for it.

"Do you have any response to Astrid's latest allegations?" the paparazzi calls out, interrupting the kiss before it happens.

Gavin sighs. "I don't even know what she's alleging now. Whatever it is, I'm not going to discuss my private life with you, except to say that anything that happened between myself and Astrid was consensual."

"What did happen with you and Astrid?" Regan asks as they have drinks at a bar not far from the museum.

"You don't believe any of her stories, do you?" Gavin asks.

"Well, guys like you, the nice, polite ones, usually have some secret kink," she laughs, "But that's not what I'm asking about. Your whole relationship with her...just days before it happened, you seemed to know what she was and you didn't much care for her."

"If I answer your questions now, can we promise to never talk about Astrid again?' Gavin asks.

"Hmm, well, if she gets as famous as she wants to be, I might not be able to stop myself from making fun of her..."

"Making fun of her is fine," Gavin laughs, "I'd prefer not to talk about her, but I don't want to be keeping any secrets from you, so, I'd like to get it over with all at once. I'll tell you anything you want to know, and then we can never bring it up again."

"Deal," Regan agrees, "So, why did you go out with her?"

"She was blackmailing me," Gavin says, "That's really all there was to it. She threatened to tell the press all kinds of sick stories about me. All our dates were for public show; in private, there was no relationship at all."

"So, what happened? You broke the deal obviously."

"I decided I'd rather deal with the scandal than have her in my life," Gavin says. Regan moves in closer to him, inviting him to put his arm around her, "And I knew I had to be rid of her before I could get you to talk to me again."

"I did shut you down pretty hard, didn't?" Regan says, "A real friend would have listened, tried to help..."

"You weren't thinking like a friend," Gavin says, "We weren't lovers, but we were far down the road to being more than friends. I was right, wasn't I, when I said that my being with Astrid broke your heart?"

"I had been secretly plotting to get rid of your girlfriend," Regan says with a sly smile, "And then Astrid swooped in like a harpy, fouling everything up before I even got a chance."

"As much as I loathe Astrid, I have to say, this all probably worked out for the best," Gavin says, "If I had broken up with Tori over you, I'd have that guilt to carry around. But as it is, any guilt I feel over Tori is completely associated with Astrid. I really, really screwed up in the way I handled things with Tori, and I'm glad you weren't part of that."

"That makes Astrid some kind of romantic palate cleanser?" Regan laughs.

"There was nothing remotely cleansing about it," Gavin says seriously, "Just thinking about her makes me feel dirty."

"But it's over now," Gavin continues, brushing his lips lightly over her bare shoulder, "And unless you have more questions, I'd like to put it behind me."

A small sigh escapes her at the touch of his lips to her skin, his hand gently caressing her hip as he holds her. "I think we're done with Astrid," Regan agrees, "Now it's just you and me."

Gavin walks with her to her front door, and kisses her hand.

"That's very sweet," Regan laughs, "But if that's all I'm getting, I might think you don't really like me."

"I think you know my feelings better than that," Gavin answers. Regan leans back against the wall as he takes her face in his hands, leans in and kisses her.

It was a kiss worth waiting for, she thinks, a kiss she'll remember when she's old and gray, reliving the highlights of her youth.

"Good night, Regan" he whispers, pulling away from her before she's ready to let go, leaving her wanting more.

Chapter 74: Maintenant et Toujours

His blue eyes, so brilliant, so penetrating, gaze into hers as his lips cover hers. "I can't wait any longer," he breathes, "I want you, maintenant et toujours."

"Oh, yes," she sighs, "I want you," as she wraps her leg around him. He presses against her, teasing her   with his cock, promising but not not giving her what she wants. "Please," she moans, begging him now, "I can't wait."

"Petite amie," he sighs in her ear, in his light teasing tone, "I am yours." And he thrusts himself inside her. It's absolutely divine.

"Portia!" her father calls sharply.

Rainier doesn't stop, beyond hearing. Portia wriggles beneath, trying to get free. "My father!" she gasps, trying to get his attention, "You have to--"

"Portia!" her father barks again.

"Portia!" Bill repeats, calling her for the third time. This time she stirs, her eyes fluttering open.

"Don't you ever knock?' she asks as she yawns awake, trying to appear nonchalant, hoping she didn't talk in her sleep. Of all the dreams for him to have to interrupt...

"I did knock, four times," Bill says, his voice short and sharp. He's not happy. She wonders if she said Rainier's name while she was dreaming. "I need to see you. Now. Downstairs. In my office."

"Okay," she says in sheepish acquiescence. There are times when Bill allows teasing and her playful backtalk, but this will not be one of those times.

He says nothing at first, merely pointing to the photo on his desk. From the security camera in the garage; what a fool she was to forget about that, positioned just above his precious Shelby, protection against thieves or vandals. This is her fault, she thinks, she invited Rainier to get in that car, and then she let him kiss there, in front of the camera.

"Please, Daddy, don't have him deported! I love him!" she pleads.

"Portia," Bill says her name with all the disappointment he can muster, "What have I told you about begging? And don't break down right at the start of an interrogation. Have I taught you nothing?'

"I--I'm sorry," she stammers, losing her grip on the situation. Is he angry at her, at Rainier, or what?

"Now, explain to me why Rainier is sitting my Shelby, making out with my underage daughter, while I was out of town."

Portia falls back into a chair and slouches over her knees, "It's my fault, Daddy," she says, "You can't blame him."

"I'll blame who I decide to blame, Portia," Bill says evenly, "I don't want to hear excuses, I just want you to tell me what is going on between the two of you, and for how long it's been going on."

"I lied to him about my age," Portia starts, "When we met, I told him I was 21. I, uh, have a fake ID that backs up that story." She'll admit to anything at this point, if it will keep Rainier out of trouble. All her father can do to her is punish her, a grounding maybe, or take away her credit cards, but Rainier...she shudders to think of what could happen to him. "We went on a few dates. And then he figured it out, somehow. He found out my real name. I lied to him about that, too. And my age. And he broke up with me, because of my age. That's the day I told you about him. I didn't want to let go. I pursued him, Dad, it's my fault."

"What did I say about excuses?' Bill sighs heavily. "Even if you pursued him, he's responsible for his own actions."

"But he didn't do anything," Portia insists. "All I got for going after him was a promise that we could get together again after I turned 18. Until then, he didn't want to see me."

Bill points at the photo on his desk.

"Emma set up a double date with Sean Davis and Jake Irvine," Portia continues, "Rainier happened to be there. Jake got a little handsy with me, and Rainier tried to stop him. And, you know Jake..."

"Jake Irvine," Bill growls the name in distaste, "Oafish jock."

"Exactly," Portia says, "He and Sean pummeled Rainier. Emma and I got them to stop, but poor Rainier was barely conscious. So, I took him home with me, let him spend the night in a guest room." At least her father doesn't have a security camera over her bed, she thinks.

"Why not take him to his own place?" Bill asks.

"I don't know where he lives," Portia says, glad for the cover Rainier's move provides her. She doesn't have to tell him about the times she'd been to Rainier's apartment in Hollywood when they were dating, before he knew her age. "And so, the next morning, I had to drive him back to the bar, to pick up his car. And, when he admired your Shelby, I invited him to get inside. I know, I shouldn't have done that. But if you could have seen his face light up when he saw it," she sighs with girlish affection, "He even refused at first, he wouldn't even touch it. But I insisted. And then, he kissed me. But that's all it was, Daddy, just the kiss. I'm going to be 18 in just a few weeks, and this waiting, it's been so hard on us..."

"I'm sure," Bill grunts. "Give me your phone."

"What?"

"Give me your phone," he repeats. Portia complies, taking the phone out of her pocket and handing it him. "Go practice your piano," he says, a little more gently, "I'm playing golf with Rainier this afternoon."

"Please, Daddy," Portia says.

"No begging," Bill interrupts her.

"I'd like to see if you can bullshit your way out of this one," Bill says as he slides the photo across the table. 

Try as he might, Rainier cannot come up with a lie to make this look innocent. He should have known Bill would have a camera on the Shelby. If it were his car, he'd do the same. 

But all Bill has is the picture, Rainier reasons with himself, and that's not enough to get him in serious trouble. 

"Bill, the truth is, I'm in love with your daughter," Rainier says, "I have been, since we met."

"She's seventeen," Bill says.

"I didn't know that, at first. I suspected, right away, that she was lying to me about something, but it took some time to discover it. And when I did, I did break things off with her. I meant to break it off permanently, but she was not so easy to let go of. So we agreed, we wouldn't see each other again until she was eighteen."

"But this picture was taken just two days ago," Bill points out. So far, Rainier's story matches Portia's, but Bill is going to take it the whole way through, hear it all again from Rainier's own lips.

"Yes," Rainier admits, "Running into Portia at the bar was a fluke," he stumbles at his story at this point. They have some absurd age restrictions on drinking in this country, but he can't remember what they are and where Portia is on that scale, and he hopes he didn't just get her in trouble for that, too. What's done is done, however, so Rainier carries on, "I was out with my secretary, and Portia was with her friend, and their dates. That was part of our agreement, that we would be free to see other people, and would get together again if we were still free,, still interested. But, I was jealous, and I'd had a few, and when he kissed her, I stepped in."

Bill laughs, "And got yourself quite the black eye."

"Lucky for me, I don't remember most of that beating," Rainier says with a smile, "And, even luckier for me, Portia stepped in and saved me from any serious injury. I was in no condition to drive, so she brought me home. To your house, because she didn't know where I live."

"And my Shelby?"

"Is, next to your daughter, the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on," Rainier says, "I know I shouldn't have touched her, but I did so with the utmost respect. Just to sit in her," Rainier sighs at the memory, "Do you take her out on the road?"

"I keep her off the streets," Bill says, "But I bring her out to Buttonwillow to race. Do you race?"

Rainier nods enthusiastically, "I'm licensed to, but I had to sell my Porsche to fund my business."

Bill frowns, realizing he let himself get distracted by car talk. At least it seems a genuine interest of Rainier's too, and not just a ploy to move him off topic. "Look, I'm having a hard tme believing you are seriously in love with a teenager. You're what, 26? Nine years older than she is."

"I know," Rainier says, "No one is more surprised by this than I am. But it's the truth."

"I could ruin you," Bill says, "Take everything you have. Have you deported, imprisoned."

All of Rainier's worst fears. But all Bill has is the one picture, Rainier is sure Portia would never testify against him. "As I just told you, Bill, I'm in love with the girl. I haven't touched her, and won't, until she's legal. But when she is, I will pursue this."

"You like taking risks," Bill says.

"I do," Rainier admits, "But that's not what this is about. Do what you will, I'm not backing down. I've waited for her, and I will have her, with or without your consent."

"Is it her money you're after?" Bill asks, "You'll have to wait even longer to get your hands on that, you know. I'm not dying off anytime soon. But, if you leave her alone, I'd be willing to increase my financial support for your company."

"You honestly think I'd let you pay me off like that?" Rainier gasps, "I'm not after her money. I'm in love with her. As ridiculous as that may seem, that's all I'm after." Rainier pauses, takes a breath, "Listen, Bill. Portia loves you, adores you. And she loves me. I don't know what your objections are to me, except for the age difference, but if you love your daughter, try to see past them. I'd hate to see her burdened with choosing between us."

"Someday, you'll know what it's like to raise a daughter," Bill says, "No father wants to see his little girl grow up. But only a fool tries to stop the inevitable. The wise man sees what's coming and takes control of the situation. Whether I like it or not, my Portia is becoming a woman, and she will have men in her life. My job, as her father, is to weed out the unworthy ones."

"And you think I'm not worthy?"

"On the contrary, you've passed every test I've thrown at you," Bill smiles. "You don't flinch, you don't back down, you name your terms and you stick to them. It's like I raised you myself. But, don't get any ideas, she's still underage. She's off limits until she's a legal adult, understand?"

"Just so you know, if you ever touch my Shelby again, I'll have you killed."

The threat is delivered with perfect timing, but Rainer's concentration is not broken, and his swing is perfect.