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Author's Chapter Notes:
Okay--- so, I wasn't going to post this chapter for another day or so but I've received a lot of great feedback since my last post and I couldn't keep you guys waiting anymore.

Let it never be said that I'm not a magnanimous person. :)

And I also hope this is a lesson for you all--- apparently, more feedback equals a quicker posting of chapters. Funny how that works. Heh.
Buzzzzz.

With my head buried under my comforter, I reached an arm out and smacked my alarm clock.

Buzzzzz.

Damn thing. I hit it again, which sent it skittering off the nightstand. I took satisfaction in the metallic plink of something breaking off, even if it meant I had to put it back together. That would teach it to go off.

Buzzzzz.

Lifting my head out of the covers, I glared at it. Why wouldn't it stop?

Buzzzzz.

"Shut up!" I yelled.

What time was it anyway? I leaned over, dangling off the edge of the bed. The clock was lying face-down, so I couldn't see the time. Then I saw the cord lying unplugged, probably from when it went flying.

Buzzzzz.

Wait a minute. It was still broken. I hadn't gotten around to fixing it. It couldn't be ringing.

Buzzzzz.

I realized the annoying sound was coming from down the hall toward the front of the house.

Jean. She had let herself inside the night before and had already fallen asleep on the extra bed in the office by the time I arrived home from Scott's.

"Damn it." I shoved the covers aside and stumbled out of my room. As I trudged toward my office, it came to me that it was Saturday. "Hell." I walked up to the closed door of my office and banged on it. "Jean! Turn the fucking alarm OFF!"

Silence. Then a faint, groggy, "Sorry."

Grrr. I mashed my lips together to keep myself from spewing more obscenities at her. By all rights, I was justified. She woke me up by alarm on a Saturday. God help her if it was…

But I knew it was before I even went into the kitchen and looked at the time. Six-thirty. In the morning.

She chose that moment to come out of my office. Bad move on her part. She never did have great timing where I was concerned.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I growled.

"I don't understand what you mean." Without so much as a blink, she sat down at the kitchen table and began lacing up her running shoes.

I crossed my arms and glared. "The alarm clock. It's fucking Saturday. Morning."

"Stop swearing."

My teeth ground so hard I could feel the enamel wearing down.

"And I set my alarm because I wanted to go running this morning."

"Excellent reason." The bite of my words was sharp. "Good thing you set it so loud because I think there's someone in the next county that wanted to get up butt early, too."

She glanced at me as she rose and stretched. "I said I was sorry."

I shook my head and went to the cupboard to get my coffee supplies out. No way was I going to be able to fall back asleep with my blood boiling. I had to reach on my toes to get the bag of beans because they'd somehow gotten pushed back.

"Do you need a hand?" She asked helpfully.

I glared at my taller sister over my shoulder. If looks could kill, she should have been day old road-kill.

"Fine." She threw her hands up in the air. "Be difficult. I'm going for a run. See you later."

It took me three cups of coffee before I felt civil, and even that was debatable. There's nothing like starting your morning on the wrong foot. Especially your Saturday morning.

When Jean came back an hour-and-a-half later, I was sitting on the living room couch with my feet propped on the table. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw her start to say something, but she wisely closed her mouth and went to the kitchen instead.

Seconds later she joined me, a glass of orange juice in her hand. She sat down on the loveseat perpendicular to me.

I made an effort to be nice. "How was your trip?"

"Fine."

I waited for her to elaborate. She didn't. I shrugged and concentrated on the last bit of coffee in my cup. The first sip is the best, but there's almost as much satisfaction in the last swallow.

"You know coffee depletes your body of nutrients, don't you?"

The look I gave her must have clearly communicated what I thought, because her lips tightened into a thin, pale line.

At least it shut her up.

And I had two weeks of this to look forward to. I wondered if Scott would let me sleep on his couch.

"Want me to make breakfast?" She asked after a long stretch of silence.

"I thought we'd go to Mom and Dad's. They probably want to see you." Since you're their favorite.

She ducked her head, suddenly very concerned about a loose string at the waistband of her shorts.

I frowned. Something was up. "What is it?"

"Well—" She bit her cupid's-bow lips that were a perfect shade of raspberry without lipstick.

I waited. When she said nothing, I barked impatiently. "What?"

She mumbled something, her chin tucked against her chest.

"What?"

"They don't know I'm here."

At least I could hear her, but I was confused. "Where do they think you're staying? Mom wouldn't let you stay in a hotel."

"No, Marie, they don't know I'm here."

I nodded. I got that, but I still didn't understand where they thought she was staying.

"Here," she repeated. "In New York."

"In New York?" Then it dawned on me. "They don't know you're here?"

Even her scowl was enchanting. "That's what I said."

"Where do they think you are?"

"At home in Washington." She narrowed her deep green eyes at me. "And I don't want them to know."

Woah. A threat from the perfect one. She then got up and went to my office, closing the door firmly behind her. I wondered why she wouldn't want our parents to know she was here. Something was going on, and it didn't seem good.

I stared at her bedroom door. Should I go ask her?

Nope. I shook my head. Our relationship wasn't exactly close, and she'd rejected my concerned overtures before. She was Super!Jean anyway—she probably had it all under control. What did she need help from me for?

I don't know why I felt compelled to hang out at home to see if Jean wanted to do anything, but I spent a couple of hours waiting for her to come out of her room. It became apparent that she wasn't intending on emerging any time soon.

I had no problem with her being reclusive. Fine with me if she wanted to lock herself in there the whole time she was here. The problem was my computer was in there with her, and I needed to go online to check out Bobby's blog. I only had two weeks to get him back—plenty of time, really, but I didn't want to leave it to the last minute.

I sat at my kitchen table, tapping my fingers against the wood. I stared at my office door and tried to guess how long she would be holed up in there. I mean, I thought she'd have to use the bathroom eventually, but I had doubt she was really human, so maybe not.

I would have called Scott; he'd let me use his computer any time. But I knew how he felt about Bobby and my plan. So I decided to go to the library and use their public ones.

I grabbed a jacket, hopped in my car, and headed to the downtown branch. All the terminals were occupied when I got there, so I killed time browsing their record selection until finally a computer opened up. I dove into the seat, cutting off an elderly woman. I smiled at her and said, "I'll just be a minute."

"Bitch." She flipped me off and tottered away.

Ooo-kay.

I shook my head and typed in the URL for Bobby's site. Then I waited for it to come up. It seemed like forever, but it was probably only a few seconds before his site appeared on the screen.

"Ah." About time. I rubbed my hands together and got to it.

"Blah, blah, blah." Bobby liked to go on and on sometimes. I scrolled down, trying to find his weekend itinerary. It had to be here somewhere.

"Got it," I muttered a moment later. He was so predictable. I skimmed through it.

Then I froze.

Aw, shit.

Couldn't be. I rubbed my eyes and reread the paragraph. Unfortunately, the words didn't change—it was exactly as I read it the first time. Bobby had a girlfriend. The bastard. What nerve. It'd barely been over a week since we'd broken up.

"Shit, shit, shit." I could feel the woman next to me staring at me, so I turned to her with an apologetic smile and said, "Sorry."

This was a rebound fling, I reassured myself. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart. When the danger of fainting from hyperventilation had passed, I slowly read his Web page again.

If what he'd written was true, he'd met her the day after we broke up. He said they "clicked."

"Clicked!" I exclaimed to the woman next to me. "We used to click."

Her eyes were so round, I thought they were going to pop out of her head. What? She'd never seen a woman scorned before? I ignored how she scooted her chair away from me and read on. Bobby described his new flame in great detail, but if that weren't enough, he also had a small picture of them together.

"Can you believe it?" I asked the woman. "They've only been dating a week and already they have a picture together."

The woman must have decided I was a harmless freak because she leaned closer to take a look. "She's kind of pretty."

I scowled. "She has no chin."

The lady pursed her lips. "But her eyes are so beautiful, you don't notice her lack of chin much."

"Hmmph."

"And look at her hair." She pointed. "How it looks so silky and how it's all in place."

I turned to glare at her. "Whose side are you on anyway?"

"I'm just saying," she shrugged, her nose in the air. With a pointed look at my hair, she gathered her things and walked away.

My hand flew to my white streaks. My hair could look like that, if I really wanted it to. Maybe.

I frowned at the picture. Bobby's rebound looked familiar. Something about her shiny hair, the way she smiled for the camera… she looked, I don't know, angelic.

I stiffened. Angelic. I leaned toward the computer until my nose was inches from the screen.

Holy shit--- she looked just like a short, mousey-blonde version of Jean. She looked more like Jean's sister than I did. Bobby was dating a Jean look-alike. In essence, he cast me aside for Jean.

"Bastard." I glared at him, standing so happy with his arm around her. Yes, the little voice inside was adamantly pointing out that I was the one who cast Bobby aside. Still. He wasn't supposed to go out the next day and replace me with someone who looked just like my nemesis.

Maybe my mom was right--- maybe Bobby was a great catch. If he got a girl like Jean just one day after I (erroneously) dumped him, he couldn't be so bad after all, right? How could I have missed his greatness?

Aside from the obvious, this development was disastrous. It threw a wrench in my plans. Bobby was supposed to be pining for me, not panting after her. We had history. I was going to go to him, grovel, and get back in his good graces. And he was supposed to accept me back after a sufficient number of kisses.

"This is not a problem," I told myself firmly. There had to be something I could do. This was a salvage-able situation. Why? Because it had to be.

I leaned back in the chair and dangled my head backward. I noticed the line of people waiting to use the computers, all of whom where giving me dirty looks, so I got up. I needed to move anyway. Moving would help me come up with a solution.

I walked around downtown, and realized to myself that I knew what I had to do. I had to break up Bobby and his new girlfriend.

But deciding to break Bobby and his girlfriend up was one thing; actual execution was another.

I spent the entire weekend thinking about this. I turned off my cell phone and meditated on the problem. I holed up in my room and plotted. I schemed. I made lists, threw them away, and recompiled them. I sketched out my war plan until every possible scenario was covered. MacGyver couldn't have done better.

I was ready.

Jean holed up all weekend, too. In fact, she was so inconspicuous, I forgot she was there.

Until Monday morning. I stumbled out of my bedroom, moaning, my eyes half-shut. Somehow I made it into the kitchen and set a pot of water on to boil. I opened the cabinet where I kept my coffee paraphernalia. I got the beans, the grinder, and the press pot down.

As I was plugging in the grinder, I noticed something amiss. Something wrong. I scowled and picked it up.

A jar of Folgers Instant coffee Crystals.

I shrieked. Sacrilege.

Then Jean hurried out of her room with a coffee mug. She paused when she saw me, then joined me in the kitchen. "I thought you'd be at work by now."

I glanced at the clock. "Only nine."

"I know." She frowned. "Won't your boss be upset if you're late?"

"Not late."

She stared at me. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Honestly, I thought I was doing really well for not yet having my coffee. I was making words, after all. I could have been grunting.

I ground my coffee, caressed it into the press pot, and poured boiling water over it. I slumped against the counter and watched Jean make herself another cup of that—that--- shudder. I couldn't even think of anything horrible enough to compare Folgers Instant to. I had to turn away as she drank it. Disgusting.

I mixed sugar into my cup and took it into the living room. Jean followed, making ridiculously happy noises a she drank her shit. "I love this stuff," she said as she sighed and settled onto one side of the couch.

I narrowed my eyes at her. Death wish. Is that what this was? But I made special dispensations because she was, technically, my sister.

Too good to last, though.

"So," she smiled at me in that fake happy way she did sometimes. "What's on the agenda for today?"

I glared at her some more as I growled. That's what I had on my agenda.

"Hmm." She raised her eyebrows, her lips thinning in disapproval. "I know you have work. Right? But do you have anything planned afterward?"

If I had a pillow, I would have hidden under it. Better yet, I would have smothered her with it.

"Because I was thinking maybe we could go out." She tried smiling. "You could show me the hot spots. I've been gone for so long I don't know what's hot anymore."

Clarification: Jean had never known what was hot. She'd stayed home and studied on weekends before she went off to college at an early age.

""I thought we could go dancing." She shrugged, gazing at me steadily.

"You couldn't wait until I'd had at least another cup of coffee, could you?"

"Excuse me?"

Like I was going to buy that innocent act. "You're trying to confuse me."

Her frown was instant. "I don't know what you're talk—"

"Admit it." I pointed a finger at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You're trying to throw me for a loop. You've planted cameras around my house and are just waiting to capture for posterity the moment I fall into your trap."

"What trap?" She scrunched her nose. "I just wanted to know whether you were busy tonight or not."

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I'm busy."

She stared at me for a beat, shook her head like she was trying to clear it, and rose from the couch. "You're insane."

Then I had a thought. Conveniently, she was already walking out of the room so I didn't have to bother to hide my grin. "Hey, the hottest bar in the county is a strip club. Want to go? Monday nights women get in for free."

"You're sick," She called over her shoulder.

I couldn't help it if I took perverse satisfaction in teasing her. I'm sure it was genetic—probably nothing I could do about it. And I didn't lie about the strip club. It was the hottest bar in town.

Feeling better now that my morning had turned around, I showered, dressed, threw away the Folgers, and took off for work. Instead of taking the bus, I opted to drive. I grabbed my phone and dialed as I drove.

"I'm not going to be in class tonight." I told Scott after our quick hellos.

"What's so important that you won't be able to make class?"

I couldn't very well tell him I was launching stage one in my assault on Bobby—I doubted it'd go over well. So I resorted to the most logical course of action: evasion. "Jean wants to see some hot spots."

Silence. Then he said," I can't believe you'd lie to me."

"I'm not lying," I protested. I wasn't. Jean really did want to go out. I just didn't say we weren't doing that tonight. "She really does."

More silence. "If you don't want to tell me what you're doing, just say so. Don't make things up. Have a little more respect for me than that."

"I'm telling you, she really does want to see the night life."

"Since when?" There was still a trace of suspicion in his voice.

"Since this morning. Listen, I have to go. I'll call you later."

"Be careful, whatever you're up to."

I crossed my eyes at the receiver.

"And don't make faces at me," he said before he hung up.

Good thing I loved him.



-----------------------------------


After a long day at the office, I was ready to call it a day. More than ready. I'd been chomping at the bit to make my first move in getting Bobby back.

His blog, for one, made no mention of what his plans were for the coming week, but that was no problem--- we'd dated for a year, after all. Sure, off and on, but I had basic knowledge of his habits. Like on Mondays he had private boxing lessons at the gym with Logan.

My plan was brilliant, really. Men always wanted what they couldn't have. Especially if it belonged to a friend. And Bobby was more competitive than most. If I dated Logan, Bobby would remember how much he wanted me and dump his Jean-impersonating girlfriend and beg me to take him back. I'd appear desirable simply because he couldn't have me.

Guilt niggled at me. Then I remembered the expression on Logan's face as he told me about his girlfriend using him, and the guilt increased.

But I stifled it. I had no choice. I had to play dirty to win. Besides, Logan had invited me to drop by. And it wasn't like I was lying to Logan, or even using him. I was just asking him out for a drink.

I hopped into my Neon and drove to Bobby's gym. It was northeast of the downtown city area, about a fifteen minute drive on a good day. The gym itself wasn't anything to write home about--- it was a renovated factory with a few separate rooms for their various classes. No frills. It surprised me that Bobby would be a member there; his family is old money, and his lifestyle is ritzy despite his philanthropic bent. The gym wasn't even convenient; it was in the opposite direction of his house.

When I got there, there was a guy manning the desk. He gave me a sweet smile that was at odds with his tough, muscle-bound exterior. "Can I help you?"

There was something in his Russian accented voice that made me automatically smile back. "I'm here to meet Logan."

"He's in Studio Three." He looked at his wristwatch. "His lesson should be over in about ten minutes."

"Can I wait for him outside the room?" I batted my eyes and tried to look innocent. "I promise not to interrupt. I just don't want to miss him."

The guy's eyes narrowed, but he nodded and said, "Sure. It's down the hall and to the right. There're windows so you can watch Logan teach from outside."

I looked where he pointed and then beamed at him. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Men were so easy.

I followed his directions to the room, but there was only one man there, and even from the back I could tell it was Logan.

God, he looked good.

I put my hands up to the glass and stared in, checking out the room to make sure Bobby was in there for my grand entrance. No such luck. I glanced into all the studios, looking for him. A yoga class and a couple of guys fencing, but no Bobby.

Damn. Had I missed him? I went back to Studio Three, just to make sure I hadn't missed him, but he wasn't there. I rubbed the tip of my nose and wondered what to do.

Before I could decide, Logan turned around. His smile started at his eyes and slowly stretched to his lips. Lips that I had the urge to know intimately.

Reminding myself that it was Bobby I wanted, I opened the door and walked in. "Hi."

"Hi." His caramel eyes seemed especially bright, like he was happy to see me.

I tried to remember the last time someone looked at me like that. Blank. "Um, I'm stopping by."

"I can see that."

"You asked me to, remember?"

A corner of his mouth twitched. "I remember."

I mentally groaned. How much more inane could I get? It was his fault; he wore a loose tank top and I could see his nipple from the side. Had he no shame?

I cleared my throat. "So I'm here."

"Looks that way." He crossed his arms and leaned against a large cupboard.

My mouth went dry at the way his biceps bulged. Not obscenely like a hardcore bodybuilder, or the guy at the reception desk, but lean with intricately woven ropes of muscles.

"Did you come to check out the gym?" He asked it like he knew the gym wasn't what I had interest in checking out.

"No. Actually, I came to see you."

His lips quirked upwards again.

God, I wished I had a bottle of water. "But it's a nice gym."

"Thanks."

"Uhm, you're welcome." I pretended to look around the room, but really, I was trying not to fidget under his amused gaze. "So how did you get into boxing?"

"I used to be a cage fighter." He unwrapped one of the wrist wraps around his hand and began meticulously rolling it. "And then I fell into the closest thing to it—boxing—when I joined the army."

"You were in the army?"

"Yeah. Only four years active." He shrugged. "I liked it, but it wasn't what I wanted to spend my life doing."

"What do you want to spend your life doing?"

"I---"

"Marie? What are you doing here?" Bobby walked into the room, a frown wrinkling his brow. "Are you here to see me?"

"You?" I tried to smile coquettishly, even though I was jumping up and down inside because my plan was back in action. "No. I came to see Logan."

"Logan?" His frown turned into a scowl as he looked back and forth between me and his friend.

Yes. It was working.

"Are you thinking of taking up boxing?" he asked disbelievingly.

"God, no." I'd suck at boxing, only because it had rules like no hitting below the belt. What was the point if you couldn't hit wherever you wanted to? "Actually, I came to see if he wanted to go out for a beer."

"Logan?"

I batted my lashes and hoped I looked innocent. "You don't mind, do you?"

He stared at me suspiciously.

Okay, maybe I'd gone a little overboard. I backpedaled. "You know, because if you mind—"

"No." But his scowl remained. "I don't mind."

"Great." Only I could tell he did. I didn't have to fake my pleased smile. I turned back to Logan.

"Are you free tonight? I know it's short notice."

"I had some paperwork to get done." He gazed at Bobby, looking for God knows what. But whatever it was, he seemed to find it, because he faced me and said, "But beer with you beats going over the books. Give me a couple of minutes and I'm all yours, darlin'."

There was a world of meaning underneath his casually spoken words, and I just about dissolved into a warm puddle at his feet. But I valiantly kept it together, telling myself to remember the plan, and flashed him what I hoped was a modest Mona Lisa smile.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Listen, I have to go."

I shrugged like I didn't care. Inside I was jumping up and down like an excited child. He sounded pissed. It was working. As I watched him leave, I wanted to clap my hands in delight. In a week he'd be mine again, no doubt about it.
Chapter End Notes:
Even I'm screaming "Finally!" after this one. Logan and Marie in the same room at the same time? I bet you thought I wasn't capable of it by now.
Stick around, guys. In the next installment Logan and Marie go after that beer they were talking about...
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