by Smith, Skye
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By the time she waited for the bus and then picked up her bike and rode it home, she had only about an hour to pick up around the house before the guys were due home. Erik was a neat freak. He didn't care if the place needed vacuuming, but he hated clutter and piles of clothes.
Erik was a bit late, so she got to visit alone with Karl as he sat sipping Merlot while she prepared veggies for a stir-fry and prepared some frozen tuna steaks for fast searing. She smiled to herself. Marique tick, now the guys.
"Did you hear the good news that Emma's doctor has told her she could go off the pill?" she asked pretending it was just idle conversation. She enjoyed the pregnant silence behind her as she chopped the broccoli.
When it went on too long she turned around to look at him. He was trying to mop spilled Merlot off the front of his shirt with a paper towel. "Take it off," she ordered. "I'll take care of the stain right now, or else Erik will yell at us." When she returned she came up behind his bare back and hugged him from behind, kissing his neck.
At first he sort of squirmed but then he settled back and enjoyed her closeness. She worked her way around to the front of him and moved her hugs to breast-to-breast rubs and her kisses to the corners of his lips. Of course, just when it was heating up, Erik walked in.
"Mmm," he said, "seared tuna, veggie stir-fry, and half-aroused girl. My favorite supper after a hard day at the office. Do you need any help?"
"No, I've helped you enough times, I think I can handle it," she said, not bothering to push herself away from Karl.
"Ditto," chuckled Karl. He did reach over and fill all three wine glasses.
The shorter days meant that now the sun was down by the time they got home, so instead of eating on the deck and pretending they weren't freezing to death, or waiting for the effort that setting the dinner table took, they decided to eat around the kitchen island. The guys disappeared upstairs to wash the day from them, but returned in good time lured by the aroma of fresh garlic in the butter of the stir-fry pan, and toasting sesame that the frozen tuna was rolled in.
"Excellent," Karl murmmured as he put yet another slice of seared tuna in his mouth and let the flavors melt together. By searing it, they did not need to pay the price for sushi grade tuna, and though the outside surfaces were sanitized by cooking in the hot oil, the inside was just barely thawed and was as good as commercial tuna could ever be.
Once they had finished eating and were waiting for absolutely fresh coffee with heavy cream for desert, Maya dropped the bomb. "I am officially resigning my job as research assistant." They both met the announcement with silence and they looked at each other and made the secret signals that all couples share after over ten years together.
She filled the silence with an explanation. She had actually looked up the meaning of 'scope creep' on the web and was astonished that it was not a description of the so-called bird dogs that ogled the Wreck Beach girls through high-powered spotting scopes.
"Erik has so much data that, like, it will take him the rest of the year to write it up. Meanwhile, everything I seem to be doing and learning these days, falls under the heading of scope creep. Face it, like, I have shot way out of bounds of Erik's project, so as far as I am concerned, I am finished."
"But," said Erik.
"I agree," said Karl. "She is right, and there are other issues. For instance, what about her movie career, and Emma's offer to pay for using her ... umm eloquence in toasting."
"I won't be working with Emma, either. I had a bit of an epithany today and have decided that both her and I are fools to put ourselves into such risky situations with bottom feeder psychos. I think we should both concentrate on like, the elitist psychos."
"This is an epiphany, Maya," Karl clapped his hands softly. "Thank you for coming to your senses. I think both of us are hugely relieved by this decision." They toasted her with the last of the Merlot in their glasses.
She wasn't about to let them get off that easy. Not even. "So now, what is my status in this house? Do you want me to move out? Do you want me to chip in? What?" There, the elephant was out of his hiding place in the refrigerator. Deal with it.
She stood and pulled two of the crystals over her head and put one over each of theirs. Then she put all the fifties on the counter, even ones that weren't rolled tightly for the money belt. "I'm going upstairs to the bathroom. You have one minute to discuss it without me."
She stayed longer in her bathroom, washing her face and combing her hair, and rubbing some coconut hand sanitizer into her pits. When she went back down, they hadn't stirred.
"Of course, under the circumstances, you must continue to live in this house," said Karl in his best fatherly deadpan. "You may chip in if you want, but only if you can afford it."
Typical men. The elephant was stomping around the kitchen and they didn't want to talk about it. "Circumstance meaning, like, the babies thing." There, she had pointed out the elephant. Now it was their turn to say something.
They sort of looked at each other over their coffee cups, and at the refrigerator, and talked about the weather. "Okay, you don't have to decide this minute," she said trying to keep her voice calm. "But if I am, like, living here waiting for you two to make some concrete plans, then either one, or the other, or both of you must bonk me on a regular basis. I have no desire to keep on living like a nun amongst men that I love."
She stood up and started filling the dishwasher. She snatched both of their cups out of their hands and splashed the dregs across the sink and then banged them back in front of them. "Starting tonight. Got it? So, work it out." As soon as it was out of her mouth, she felt better, calmer, loving. She smiled at them. She knew what they would decide. She would have both of them tonight, a threesome. None of this two-on-one stuff. A true threesome.
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MAYA'S AURA - the Refining by Skye Smith
Chapter 13 - In present day San Francisco
Between working on Chuck's leg, soothing Karen's belly and Gladys's hip, her aura was getting a lot of exercise. It felt good to be using it again. When she was filming she tended to hide it away so it wouldn't get bruised by the brashness of the brown nosers, and the mad world of movie-making. Each day it was becoming stronger from use.
Today Gladys had felt so good that she'd asked to be taken to a restaurant, which also meant Paul, of course. It was still early so Maya had told Paul where to drive them, because she wanted a sunset meal. She couldn't believe that Gladys had never been to Louis' Cafe, overlooking the Cliff House and the now crumbling sea-water swimming pools that had been part of San Francisco's golden age.
Paul, as usual, sat with his back to the view watching the comings and goings of the cafe, while Gladys and Maya squabbled over whose turn it was to use Maya's tiny monocular to look for whales. Paul left them and they saw him walk down the street to a pale green sedan. He came back with a pair of long birder binoculars and stood it on the table in front of them.
To Maya's querying look, Gladys said, "Paul's backup. He always follows us."
The food was good, but frankly they could have been served up grilled slugs in garlic butter and they wouldn't have minded, not with this view. It was still early evening when they got back to Gladys's mansion on the hill.
"Did you notice that I didn't even bother taking my cane to supper?" Gladys asked her. "That's how good I feel."
"Don't fall prey to overconfidence," Maya warned, "all you need is one fall, and like, your hip will shatter and that will be the beginning of the end of you. My aura can help with muscle and tissue, and anything moist, but you know, with bones it can do nothing."
Paul came and handed a filefolder to Gladys. Gladys handed it to Maya. "This is everything the media and the government has on you. You don't mind that Paul had you checked out? It is his job."
Maya opened the folder. It was compiled mostly from movie industry promos, but also included the dates of whenever she visited unusual countries. Countries w
here American tourists were rare.
"Don't bother reading it. Paul assures me there is nothing scandalous. Unusual for an actress, but knowing you to be an eccentric, not unexpected."
Maya noticed both Karen's and Chuck's addresses and phone numbers were in the material. "You had me followed?"
"Paul is very thorough. My grandchildren demand it of him."
"And your children?"
"My son died of altitude sickness during a failed ascent of Everest." Gladys went quiet, thoughtful. "Yes, I believe I will send a big check to Nepal. If the Sherpas hadn't gone up again to bring him down, his body would still be serving as an altitude marker."
The TV was flashing pictures at the end of the room, though turned down low. Maya watched a familiar figure waving to adoring crowds and walking through the crowd shaking hands. Gladys turned around to see what she was watching. "Oh him. Glover Walland. The back room boys at party headquarters must be rubbing their hands together with glee."
"He is handsome, and tall," remarked Maya.
"He is a good actor, and that is the skill most needed in a president. The ability to read other people's words as if they were your own. The ability to put the line across with passion, even though the words are empty. I would actually prefer the old senator, but that will never be."
"But isn't he running second?"
"He is running second only because he has been set up as a spoiler." She watched as Maya shook her head. "The backroom boys have pressed every button to push the senator into second place so that all the others will quit before the convention. In the convention, the senator won't stand a chance. Some of the others may have beaten Glover, or at least forced him to cut a deal."
"But the senator is a nice man. A lot of what he says makes good sense. Like putting crooked bankers in jail, and cutting the military budget, and, and," Maya wracked her memory, "stopping the subsidies to oil companies and car companies."
Gladys laughed. "And that is exactly why the good senator from Texas is going nowhere. The more popular he gets, the more money pours into Glover's campaign from bankers, and the war industry, and the oil companies."
"Have you ever met either of them?" Maya asked.
"The senator was a good friend of my husband's, back when he was one of the back room boys for the party. I have never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Walland, though his people are always trying to get us together. They want to make sure that my newspapers stop backing the senator once the convention begins."
"I would love to meet him," said Maya not taking her eyes from the close-up on TV.
"Paul, next time Walland's people call, say 'yes'," Gladys said to the man sitting silently in the shadows playing chess on a computerized chessboard.
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MAYA'S AURA - the Refining by Skye Smith
Chapter 14 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver
One of the things that she had always accepted as true, without ever having tried it, was that one woman was more than the equal of two men in bed. True, as they went to bed, they all pinky swore not to use their auras, which meant that Maya was constantly grabbing for her elbows. Sex had been the experimentation that they had shied away from with her, since her aura had a track record of killing men.
So much for the common wisdom of teenage girls. They were gentle and attentive to her needs. They were skilled. They were generous, and they totally ruined her for men of her own age. The next morning, they leaped out of bed feeling wonderful, while she just lay there tingling from head to toe and watched them get ready for work, ever so thankful that she could roll over and sleep for another hour.
Perhaps a lot of her mumsy feeling was psychological. She had, after all, been craving these men for two months. Maybe it was because they had finally decided to take their relationship to the next logical level. No, that would account for some, but not all of what she was feeling.
She hit her memory rewind button and thought about all the men she had actually had sex with. This wasn't that difficult since that number had just doubled. The differences were uncountable, but the one she put above all others, was the humor. To these two men, sex was not something serious and significant. Yes, it was like a mutual, skillful, all over, feel good massage, but beyond all of that technique it never ceased to be good clean fun with lots of giggles, chuckles and laughter. They didn't have sex, they made smiles.
She crawled out of bed moving in slow motion, but that wasn't good enough for what she had planned for today. A strong coffee sped her up a little. A shower, a little more. It wasn't until she watched the local morning news on the TV that she had that necessary burst of adrenalin. The local stock market was in a freefall because one of its biggest stock promoters had died peacefully of a heart attack while feeding the pigeons at Kitsilano Beach Park.
She sighed. It was time to continue with her epiphany. Time to save Karen's reputation from this god awful movie.
She was not booked to be in the studio today, so she knew she would not be on the gate list. For that reason she dressed in her predator bait costume and hoped she would be passed through the gate as just another lost extra. Tightly wrapped in her trench coat she made the downtown bus by flagging it down mid-stop.
"You in trouble miss?" asked the burly bus driver.
"Umm, no, I didn't mean for you to stop here. I was going to run and catch you when you stopped at the next bus stop."
"And I was supposed to know that, how?" He signaled and bullied his way back out into the traffic. All the cars behind slammed on their brakes. If you hit a transit bus it was always your insurance that paid. Instead of doing a transfer, she walked the last ten blocks thinking about what she was going to say.
She never got past the guard at the gate. She waited around for ten minutes hoping that someone with some say would come close enough for her to call to them, but it was not to be. That is, until two deliciously huge and handsome weightlifter types came into view. She called them over. They were the ones who had been with Cleopatra at the Queens Ball.
"Guys, could you get me by this guard, please? I have to get in." She had already flashed her coat open to the guard with no effect, but when she flashed the guys, they were a bit more insightful.
"Yo, numbnuts," said the big one to the guard, "isn't it obvious there has been some mistake on the list? Let her in so she can clear it up. The director will have your balls if he's holding up a shot waiting for her." The guard looked at the size of her friends, and then looked again at the skimpy costume, and shrugged his shoulders. This job didn't pay enough to cross these two, and they were obviously trying to impress the sweetie.
She leaped up into the arms of first one and then the other of the guys. She had to if she wanted to kiss their cheeks without them bending down. Then she raced off towards Karen's dressing room. Karen wasn't there, but in the morning conference with writers and directors. She sucked in her breath and her courage and barged into the conference.
Three assistants to important people were immediately angry. Karen shushed them and asked her what was wrong, waving her hand at the movie executives as if to warn 'this better be good'.
"What's wrong, what's wrong? This film is wrong. It's lame, and they are wasting you."
"Get her out of here," demanded the lead writer.
Karen shushed him again and told her to close the door and speak her piece.
"No, we don't have time" said the executive director, the one that wasn't Mike. "She is what, an extra? Give her a pink slip and escort her off the lot."
Maya stared at Karen. Karen stared back and took a deep breath while trying to think of something to say that would save Maya's career. Mike was the one that thought of it. "Hey, not so fast. That scene of her on the fence when the vampire catches her? That was hers, all hers. We just explained the scene and she ran with it. I'm willing to give her a couple of minutes." He waved to her to speak. She shot him a grateful glance, and took a deep breath.
"Well, fir
st off," Maya began, "I am the audience you are aiming for, and I think this movie is lame. It can be fixed, and I think it can be fixed quite easily, but if you don't fix it then don't waste any more money on it."
The two writers switched up to full volume to shout her down. The executives looked at each other. They knew she was right. She was just the first one brave enough to say it. Mike banged on the table to calm down the furor, and waited till the room had quieted.
"So, how would you fix it?" he asked.
"Well, mainly it's your use of Karen. I mean, girls my age are not going to swallow it. She is way too old for, like, the young innocent school girl part you have written for her." She held her hand up as Karen reddened, straightened up in her chair indignantly, and was about to open her mouth. "Oh, come on. We watch her five times a week carving vampires up and making it look easy. Like, we are going to swallow that this is her first time? Not even."
"So, is your idea to cut me down to a cameo, or turn my character into a teacher?" Karen's voice had an ominous edge to it.
"Neither. Remember that Sandra Bullock movie where she was a hard-nosed cop and she had to become a beauty queen contestant? That's how I see this. In girls my age, you are the hard-nosed vampire killer. Why not play a cop who, in the beginning doesn't believe in vampires? You must pretend to be a student, to like, catch what the police thinks is a psycho predator."
"Go on," Karen said.
"Like, I watch a lot of movies on cable." Maya chose her words carefully. " Young starlets, when they reach your age, either disappear to be, like, replaced by the latest flavor of the month, or they do comedy to bridge them across the difficult years until they are like, old enough to play older, more serious roles."
"Are you saying we turn this into a comedy?" asked the lead writer sarcastically. "We may as well start over."
