Dianthus's Story

The TV clicks on in your living room, local electronics department store, and work breakrooms. It's usually the pretty blonde or tall dark and handsome male in an anchorman's suit. All they seem to be talking about is the one-woman sensation: Dianthus


"You've seen her face all around the world, from London, to Tokyo, to Australia, even the United States & Canada. This young. attractice woman, Dianthus is on the verge of being wealthy enough to be friends with billionaires Oprah Winfrey and Bill Gates.

With huge success as an actress as a young girl, and a songstress and singer after her parents pulled her out of private school after her freshman year of high school, Dianthus was provided the perfect upbringing for her destined stardom. Tickets are sold out throughout the world, from the moment they hit ticketmaster for this woman who has the voice of soul and passion filled through powerful lyrics melted in to modern day textures and tempos. How does this one woman do it all - despite the amazing childhood? Here's the exclusive! Keep tuned in, folks!

It's hard to fail with parents like Aimee Bell and the recently deceased Jason Bell leading you every step of the way - the very same way they've lead us all with their words and song. Aimee Bell, if you remember, is most famous for her recent work with Lady Gaga, Taylor Swift, and Gwen Stefani as one of their many personal hair stylists, make-up artists, and dresser. It's been said that she's dolled up our little princess since she was born, taking her with her to the red carpet affairs that she and husband Jason were invited to. No doubt, Dianthus's style comes from her mother's side, but what about her father's influence?

Jason Bell, guitar and vocal legend as leader of the band Diagnonense alongside four other members found his fame like every one else - but with drugs and alcohol ON the menu, ladies and gentlemen! But who can blame the man? He must have dealt with stress day in and out with all the publicity he received from not only his band, but for the controversial rumored story still surfing the internet channel of how he stole the hand of (then) Aimee Vikresburg from Multi-millionaire and inventor, Travis Ward. Rumor has it that Ward and Vikresburg were dating for eight years and then engaged before Jason stole the show - but the question is, why did he chose her when he could have had any one else? Well, his answer to us back then was, "Well, why not?"


What a great wedding that was, and then along came the star of our exclusive - Dianthus. -- It's too bad about her father, though. -- Yeah, what happened there, anyhow? -- Well, the 'diagnonsense' if you'll take my pun was that Jason Bell was found, like so many other greats like Elvis Presley and such, passed out in the bathroom. Drug overdose, no doubt. -- Anything else at the scene? -- Haha, well, that's classified, isn't it? They wouldn't give us that information if we paid them-, well, I suppose they're richer than we could offer anyway! (They laugh)

That's alright, though, Jason Bell, because your daughter has become three times as popular as you are. By the way folks, the latest album: Born to Die, supposedly a tribute to her late father and how she feels about the situation, comes out in just two short weeks to your local music store! But, you can call the number at the bottom of the screen NOW and receive it a week earlier through amazon and itunes. Once again, that number is...."

He flicked off the TV, disgusted with rage and cold blooded murder. He tried as much as he could to spit out the bad taste in his mouth...








Current time: 8:37pm -- The top floor of The Gala'vox Hotel, New York City, New York

The party was loud, the room was decorated in overly lavished design, and the music was so dull and orchestrated that no one was bothering to dance but the older wealthy couples who'd finished dinner and had too much to drink. In her own corner Dianthus let out a laugh, holding her her wine glass with her right fingers delicately laced around the thin spine. She wasn't sure what had been said, but she knew it was rude not to laugh at a joke.

Bowing her head, she excused herself from the present company and escaped to the hall of the grand ballroom until she found a ladies' bathroom. It was for one person, and very up-done with expensive brands and shines all over. She brought herself over to the sink, setting down her glass to the side before placing her hands up at her hair, pulling it back into it's messy bun. It was all for nothing, this party, and that always put her in the worst mood. She would rather be granting an appearance to a charity function, but instead, she gets dragged to the party of the century because her publicist never takes a vacation! Straightening herself up, she turned in the mirror to glance at the side of her head and the the backside of her dress. The flower stayed in it's place at the base of her bun, allowing her dress to leave nothing to the imagination of what she really looks like from behind. Thoroughly satisfied, and a breath well taken, she pushed against the door to leave the room.

And managed to, like the poor clutz she is, smack it right in the face of a man she didn't know who happened by. She brought up a hand to her lips, her eyes wide. Embarrassment turned to horror as she spotted the trickles of blood beginning down his nose. On a quick thought, she looked around for anyone to be watching and reached for his arm, attempting to pull him in to bathroom she'd just left. Closing the door behind her, she finally spoke, frantically humiliated. "I'm so very sorry, very sorry about your nose. Hold still and I can wipe it, okay? I'm sure there's something in here that will work."

Before he could respond she spun around, looking up in the cabinet pantry for a spare hand-towel. Naturally, she found the most expensive out of internal spite for the party and decided it would be the best to ruin with blood. Turning back to him, she let out a laugh, shaking her head as she poured some warm water from the spout on the cloth and brought it over to him. "Come on, lean your head back on the back of the toilet. It'll stop soon. - Oooh, did I break it? God, I hope not." As he leaned back, she dotted his face with the wet portion of the towel, biting her lip as she leaned over him for a better view.

When the bleeding finally stopped, she let out another laugh and winked, "I really am sorry. You'll be okay, now?" Without another word, she fluttered out the door with her dress trailing behind her. Back to the ballroom, to forget any of it ever happened and to put as much distance between the awkward encounter as possible before word got out to the magazines that she was 'assaulting' patrons and celebrities in passing. -- Or dragging them to the bathroom with her during a party. How scandalous! My publicist would have a field day.




From across the room, an older man who'd spotted her during the whole thing let out a grin, making his way through the crowd to be social.

"Don't complain too much, Biggsy," the older gentleman said. "You're going to be pulling in some serious dough off of this job. Maybe you'll actually be able to set yourself in some better digs than that shithole you're staying in now." The man's voice flowed from his lips in a rich baritone that didn't much fit his body, but Jackson had grown accustomed to it during his tenure at the man's firm. It was soothing to him in a way, now. Jackson nodded once and sucked in a long, deep pull from his cigarette. The cherry was dangerously close to the filter by now, and he could feel the heat from the burning ember on his thumb and forefinger.

"I'm just not terribly fond of the whole idea of being a glorified babysitter, Ralph," Jackson replied, flipping the cigarette out and over the cement wall that separated the third level of the parking garage from the treetops beyond.

"Then you got into the wrong business, son," Ralph replied with a chuckle, clapping his hand on Jackson's shoulder. "At least you've got something to look at on this one: The girl's a looker, that's for certain. Did you see her on the cover of the Rolling Stone last month? I swear, if I was about ten years younger and thirty pounds lighter-"

"-your wife would've grabbed you by the ear and pulled your lecherous ass home, kicking and screaming."

"Yeah, well, why don't you stop busting my balls and let me have my little fantasies, Biggsy," Ralph asked, feigning irritation. He was trying to look angry, but the whole facade kind of got thrown off with the corners of his mouth starting to tug up into a smile. "Point is, stop being a little bitch and let's go meet the dame and her over-protective mother, aye?" Jackson tugged at the bottom of his suit jacket to smooth out the wrinkles around his shoulders and slipped a little black earbud into his right ear..

"Yeah, yeah," he said with a sigh. "Let's go mingle with the tippy-top of the social hierarchy."



"Did you find her," Ralph asked, the old man's voice ringing through Jackson's head. Hearing Ralph was usually good news, but not after he'd just been brained with a door by the woman that he was supposed to be protecting. He could already feel the headache surging forward, and none of the cacophony around him was doing any kind of good at staving it off.

"I think the bitch might have broken my nose with the fucking bathroom door," Jackson replied through clenched teeth. He heard what sounded like a chuckle on Ralph's end. The old man coughed and pulled himself back together before any of the laughter could fully escape.

"Need I remind you," Ralph said, "that we're around several hundred people that have more influence in this town than either of us could ever think about having? I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from the cussing till you're in the company of only your own ears. I'm with the mother right now."

"Well, the b-i-star-star-h is moving back towards the crowd," Jackson growled. "You and the mother move to intercept, and I'll just lay back for a moment so I don't, you know, offend the socialite with my horrendous use of the English language."

"Good plan."

Widower Aimee Bell would always be a sight to see. Her hair fell at great lengths, rich and black as velvet. It curled naturally, creating a silhouette the lower it fell down her back. Not that she was in any way, shape, or form 'large' or 'gaining weight', but you never can be too careful when your husband's just died -- or murdered. Smokey eyes rested on the man next to her, judging him from the moment he walked through the door. You could always tell who the people who weren't 'part of the crowd' were, especially when they singled you out and made a bee line. In upper circles, everyone thinks they're the next big thing, the cat's pajamas... And if you believe this, then you know the people will come to you, not the other way around.

The second clue was the way he spoke flatteringly, as if there was no scripture laced in with each word. His name was Ralph - a seemingly important business-worthy name. Aimee had taken it upon herself to seek him out. It was true that her daughter Lorelei already had protection - it came with the fame, but this matter was different altogether. Especially when she suspected foul play for her husband's death, and that it could all be related.

"Ralph, Where is he?" She spoke expectantly. The woman looked in her thirties, but her tone set off the truth about hitting fifty. Next month. Maternal, demanding, impatient.

After a moment's reassurance that whoever the man was would arrive, Aimee let her eyes scatter across the room, resting only on her daughter's form. It wasn't hard to find the one person in the room dancing by herself. She never understood it, either. Her daughter was beautiful. Modest, rather than vain, but she had to know she could have anyone. Preferably someone with money in their pocket, but then Aimee would be a hypocrite if she told her not to fall for love over material. Wasn't that how Travis and she split things off? It was rude of him, telling the tabloids that she was stolen by the only man she ever truly loved... At first sight. But, when you're heart-broken, who can blame you. Especially when you have all the money in the world to back up what you say, whether it's truth or lie.

Travis. There's an idea.

"Ralph, are we still on to meet in two days? The Charlotte Hotel?" Her voice was low, a murmur to any but his ears. "I have some more.. ideas on the situation."

---

Flight of the Eagle by Brian Crain came on, and for once Lorelei recognized it. She tilted her head upward, catching her mother's gaze from across the way. She smiled, waving friendly, and her mother beckoned her forth. It was ridiculous how a mother could still treat you like a child, no matter your age. That was precisely the reason Lorelei insisted on moving out. Coincidentally, it was a month before her father's death, and Aimee Bell had tried desperately to guilt her daughter to 'come home', but there was no way she could return to the house of the dead man.

Was that what she was referring to her father as now?

It wasn't as if he'd been a terrible father. He hadn't been around enough to really make an impression on her, despite the commentary on every interview their family had been given together. They were the 'American-Hollywood Family', a success story for the business and keeping it about family - rather than the sex and drugs. Too bad the sex and drugs couldn't be kept out of the family. Jason Bell was adulterous, a drug-addict until the day he died, despite rehabilitation and threats from Aimee about leaving and taking the money with her. The Pre-nup strictly stated that in the event of a relaspe, the money, the fortune, the fame was all hers. And that the tabloids would be given full exposure to his events.

Of course, she never gave in and went through with it. No, her balls shriveled back up the moment he came crying to her about how they were the family of america, and if they gave up, who would anyone have to look up to?

Lorelei vomitted a little in her mouth just thinking about it. Instead, she spun around, dancing with herself. Eventually, she found the arms of a few gentlemen that were no doubt thrust her way by their mothers, publicists, or even Aimee Bell herself, but she smiled through it all and gave them their two minutes of fame. I danced with Dianthus! - She laughed, thinking about the tabloids or newspaper articles. Was every move she did, every motion she took going to be watched for the rest of her life?

Certainly not. Don't forget the plan.

Ahh, the plan. Once this gig was up, she was heading back home. Her home. The blinds will be down, the doors locked, the lights out. Nobody's home. Maybe they'd buy it. It didn't matter, because she wasn't coming out for a good long week, so kindly fuck off. Honestly, Montana never sounded so good in her whole life. Maybe she'd bother to sneak out every once and a while to play with the horses on the neighboring ranch, or take a night stroll through the Podunkville town she was located on the outskirts of. It would be perfect. Slap on some make up, a wig, and a pair of shades and she'd be ... She'd be... Tara Hill, aspiring artist trying to make a living to get to the big city.

Well, it was a start, okay? And she'd only be 'Tara' for a week anyhow. She couldn't afford much else with the schedule and pressure she was under. The tour was over, but the Euro-tour started in eight weeks and there would be physical training, choreography, and ... a lot of publicity. Maybe I can sneak in a charity or something... Save a farm. I don't know.

A few minutes later, the song ended, and the man dancing with her's obvious interest in her.. breasts caused Lorelei to sweetly laugh at whatever he'd joked about before bringing him with her to meet her mother, who was about to have a cow waiting on her daughter's attendance to whatever her and this stranger were talking about.

Oh God. Tell me this isn't the father of this awkward guy next to me. Mom....

"Dianthus, this is Ralph." No last name? Were they friends?

"It's a pleasure, Ralph." Emphasize on the, 'who the fuck is this guy?'.

"And who is your friend, dear?"

"I have no Earthly idea." She beamed, looking over at him. Perhaps now was the best time to tease her mother. "But I'm thinking about taking him with me to the bathroom, if you know what I mean. I just came out with another already. I think I left him bac--"

"Lorelei Lynn!" She grew aggressive, reaching for her daughter's arm and yanking it so that she was pulled towards the woman about two feet away from the gentlemen in quesiton. Her dance partner's wide eyes were more priceless than her mother's snarl. After a few short words with 'Ralph', he was dismissed. No doubt to tell the whole story of how he slept with Dianthus. Good luck with your life, kid. She mused, but her mother demanded her attention.

"How dare you."

"Mother, we're only here because Henry insisted it was good publicity. I don't even want to be here."

"Show a little respect. With opportunity comes responsibility. Hold your chin up." She snapped, bringing a finger beneath the girl's mouth to lift her head up. "That Ralph is a very important man. Do not embarrass me. Do you understand? The people here? Fine. Have your fun and make a fool of yourself. See if I care! But this man, you will not humiliate me in front of, or so help me--"

"Good grief, it's been how long and you're already shacking up?"

"Unlike some ungrateful daughters, my mind is always on the family business! And your livelihood!" Her tone was serious, though her volume remained low and controlling. "Now, we are going to go back there and you're going to talk with Ralph. Even if you escape my grip tonight, young lady, you will be there for brunch in a couple of days. Do I make myself clear?"

I'll be in Podunkville by then. Har-har. "Yes, mother. Of course, I do." Her tone mocked the woman, but was sincere enough to get the grip on her arm loosened. A red mark showed on her pale skin, so she covered it up with her free hand, holding her arm with a shy smile, returning to Ralph's now-empty side with her mother.

"Biggsy?"

Jackson looked up from a sink in the men's bathroom to study his reflection for a moment: The skin on and around his nose was red and still sore to the touch, and he could already see some bruises beginning to form in the hollows under his eyes, but every seemed to aligned and it didn't hurt too terribly bad to breathe, which was a good sign all on it's own. "It's not broken," Jackson said as he took a wet paper towel and scrubbed at the dried blood under his nose. "What's the situation?"

"I've got the girl and her mother in the mezzanine seating above the ballroom," Ralph replied. "Needed to get the girl out of the crowd before I had another 'eligible bachelor' sweep her off to parts unknown. How quick can you be up here?"

"Four minutes," Jackson replied, tossing the paper towel into a nearby trash bin. "You gonna be okay watching the happy family until I get there?"

"Hustle, please," Ralph said, his voice dropping barely above a whisper so only Jackson could hear. "The Hulk would have a hard time keep these two separated. They're like two pissed off alleycats. And bring me a Scotch on the rocks, por favor."

"I didn't think we were allowed to drink on the job, bossman," Jackson teased. He pushed open the bathroom door and began to force his way through the crowd of giggling aristocrats and celebrities toward the open bar.

"Like I said. Pissed off alleycats."



Jackson entered the mezzanine seating quietly, a glass of scotch in one hand and a flute of wine in the other, just as Ralph was checking the door to the stairs for probably the hundredth time. "There he is," Ralph said with a smile as he stood and moved toward Jackson as swiftly as a bigger man could. "Miss Bell, this is-"

"Jackson Biggs," Jackson finished with a smile and a curt nod. "I guess the old man's probably told you enough about me for you to already know that, though." Ralph snatched the scotch and the wine from Jackson's hand and handed Aimee the wine with a nod that almost matched Jackson's.

"Remind me never to talk highly of you anymore if that's how you're going to act," Ralph replied with a chuckle as he took a sip of his whiskey. "And Jackson, this is Miss Bell's daughter, Lorelei. Also known as Dianthus." Jackson looked to the younger redhead and nodded.

"We've met already, I believe," he said pointing to his own nose. "But a formal introduction does't hurt. Not as bad ass the door did, I mean."

Jackson's gaze hardened on Lorelei for a moment before his attention shifted to the waiter that she'd knocked to the ground during all of the commotion. He held out his hand to the man with as much of a smile as he could muster and pulled the man back to his feet with ease. "I apologise for any kind of displeasure that may have caused you, sir," he said.

"No trouble, man," the waiter replied with a shake of his head. "It's not every day that you run into one of the hottest celebrities out right now." Jackson's nose throbbed slightly, but he forced his smile to widen as he clapped a hand on the waiter's shoulder.

"Trust me," he said with a nod, "I know exactly what you mean. What's your name, anyway?"

"Joeseph Tilly."

"Well, alright then, Mr. Joeseph Tilly," Jackson continued. "My name is Jackson Biggs, and I'm a representative for the Bell family. Now, I know that you're going to have an awfully strong urge to go and tell this story to whomever might listen, but I'm going to go ahead and ask a little favor of you: I'm going to need you to forget everything that just happened a moment ago, okay? All of it. My employer is willing to pay you double whatever any of these paparazzi will for the story, but I'm going to need you word on this for it to happen. Do I have it?" Joeseph's eyes widened at the mention of money and he nodded quickly. "No, Joeseph. I need you to tell me that I've got your word. Sort of a verbal contract, if you will."

"You got it, man," Joeseph said, holding out his hand to shake. "That kind of cash could go a long way."

Jackson grabbed the young man's hand and shook it firmly. "You're definitely right about that, Joeseph Tilly. Go ahead and leave your number with my associate," he nodded his head towards Ralph, "and we'll get into contact with you as soon as possible, alright?" Joeseph nodded again and hurried over to Ralph. His gaze turned to Lorelei once more and his gaze hardened.

"Miss Bell," he said with all the patience that an adult might have with a whiny five year old, "I understand that you're hot shit right now. Little Miss Cover-of-the-Rolling-Stone and whatnot. That's fan-fucking-tastic and all, but I couldn't give two shits less about your accomplishments. All I'm here for is to make sure that you don't wind up dead or in a gutter somewhere hopped up on whatever kind of fucking drug is big on the street right now. Your life and your reputation are my concern, and I'm not going to let your mother waste her hard earned money for no reason."

He turned his head towards Ralph and nodded towards the door. "Get them ready to go, and let's get the fuck out of here. Mr. Nosebleed is done with all this high class bullshit for tonight."

Ralph turned towards Lorelei and Aimee and bowed his head slightly. "I apologise for that outburst," he said with a sigh. "He's been a little on edge lately. If you ladies will allow it after such h behavior, I'd be honored to escort you to your hotel."

The Charlotte Hotel : First Floor : La Patrice Hall - Two Days Later

The hall was as large and grand as the location of the party just two nights before, except that for this time the windows were open, the curtains were pulled back, and the room was draped in white silk - over the chairs, the tables, the napkins... It was the purity every morning should be as every day is different and has the potential to be better than the last.

At least, that was the hocus pocus mumbo jumbo that Aimee read off of her smart phone that morning, starting her off in a good mood. It only seemed to last until 11:13am. At precisely thirteen minutes past the eleventh hour, Aimee was sitting in her chair, drumming her fingers across the table and letting out heavy sighs. She glanced over at Ralph, who'd been very pleasant company during their whole business relationship. She liked him well enough, and because of that, she over looked the profanity of his counterpart and employee -- Jackson Biggs. This man, as unorthodox as he appeared that night to be able to handle the upper city life and standards of stardom, just may be the charm that finally sends her daughter back home to her in California. Under the same roof - that's all she asked. It was there that she would be safest, she was sure, and that was the ultimate goal and plan. Until then, well.. She would just keep a close eye on her daughter by the eyes of Jackson. She'd hired someone only for her daughter, but she'd even managed to weasel her way through Ralph's barriers and bargained up the right price to handle them both, having him with her at all times. She continued their discussion, despite the disappearance of the two in question.

"I hired you because my daughter is in danger - but not only that, her habits make her a danger to herself." Aimee continued, pressing her lips together firmly. "It's not that she's a druggy like her father, no, but she's wild. She's twenty-eight years old! When is she going to pretend that the world she lives in isn't always bright lights and pretty cameras? She's got to think of her own safety! You see," She crouched lower to him, in between cut up pieces of a donut with knife and fork, "My husband was murdered. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Someone is out for his money - and if you ask me, it's Travis Ward. There's no grudge like that of one from a scorned lover. " With this, she let out a groan, dabbing dramatically at her eyes. "I can't believe it's all my fault, but.. Oh! I just can't let him have Dianthus, too! You see? I'd have nothing, and then I'd have to go back to him."

"But, Ralph, I'll say one thing. Your boy was very smart that night, to think of taking a room next to her just to watch her. I thought it was a bit intrusive, even for my standards, but when you told me this morning that he'd reported her leaving in a car heading out of state... Well, I wouldn't have that information without your boy Biggs. Props to you. You're hired, so long as he brings her back." She grinned, winking at him.

It was easy to tell that she'd thought about this a bit too much - and that her theories were delusional. However, she wasn't completely off when she spoke of murder. This much was true, though it may not exactly be ex-lover billionaire. Who knew.

The man who sat across the way with a pair of shades on to hide his eyes from the sun through the window, reading the newspaper.

---

Eden Ranch : Outskirts of Podunkville Montana - The Afternoon of the Second Day

After various methods of transportation, a few forced naps in closed compartments, and a bus ride down the longest gravel road in the world, Lorelei had arrived to paradise. She'd lost an hour or so in the process, so the sun was chasing the hills for fun in the last few hours of the day - casting a shadow on just about everything from the rickety mailbox that granted her entrance to the land that seemed to go on forever. Luckily, her arrival didn't go unannounced, and Richard -- or Dick, the head caretaker of the ranch she'd come in to possession of some five years or so ago, with or without her mother's approval - she was a grown woman by then! - headed down the dirt path on a four wheeler, waving a straw hat and a big grin on his face at her.

"My little sunshine's back, mm?" Dick was, and always would be, her adopted grandfather. The man was too old to be out in the heat, the sun, or under such physical assertion under the standards of any city-stricken folk, but you couldn't pull him away. He was promoted from the stables manager to head keeper in the hopes that no one would run him off at the highest bid to raise their horses. Lorelei couldn't stand losing him, and she wouldn't. Only Bill Gates could out bid her for him and something tells her that he's not too interested in playing with livestock.

"I missed you," She spoke genuinely, tossing the over-night bag full of the essentials on the back gate, strapping it down before she slipped on behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"In either case, welcome home sweetheart." He laughed, letting on the gas and taking off. A trail of dust kicked up in their wake.

---

The Charlotte Hotel : First Floor : The Lounge - Later That Evening

"So, Ralph. Has he reached Montana, yet?" Aimee asked expectantly, folding her arms.

Lorelei blinked, hearing the familiar voice from somewhere in her mind as she considered the menu. Her eyes hovered just above the menu to spot the identity of such a voice, and then double took. She hadn't expected anyone to find her, or follow her, which is what he must have done to be here the day she'd arrived. Surely, this was her mother's work. The woman had gotten smarter than she looked in her old, paranoid age. It was beginning to bug her.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak to him, the waitress walked over and patted Lorelei playfully, "Tara! You didn't tell me it'd be a table for two/!"

"Well, Anna, if I had known that my boyfriend Jack would be here, I'd have told you! I'm just as surprised to see him." She looked from the pig-tailed blonde over at the man. She had to admit that he cleaned up nice, and almost looked like the best thing on the menu in this small town. "And didn't you know, Anna, he's also promised to take care of the check for me, so I may need a little longer to decide what I want. Is that okay?"

Anna practically bounced on the balls of her feet, nodding ecstatically, "That's totally fine! And welcome to Lloyd's Diner, Jack! I'll bring you a water until you decide what you'd like, alright? - Maybe a beer?" She giggled, taking off behind the western double doors.

Straightening up her composure, she adjusted her loose and free outfit accented with a pixie cut brunette wig. When she was through, she leaned over the table and twirled a stray finger over his hand, her spare hand holding up her chin as she watched him curiously. "I'm impressed." She spoke evenly, though she smiled, putting on the flirtatious works for anyone that gazed over. She retreated her hand from his, laying out the menu as her voice turned business. "Do you need help with what you're going to eat?"

"I've not thought about it a whole lot, actually," he said, his eyes focused on the road before them. He felt an ache rise up in his heart that he hadn't felt in a good while and pictures of his mother's face, mostly of her smiling or laughing, started running through his mind at full speed. His smile shrank, but a ghost of it still lingered on his lips. "I mean, I got into this line of work for us. Living in New York is expensive, you know? After the Army, I just kind of had nothing else I could do, so I did what I knew best. I'm really good at protecting people." Then he let out a sigh.

"Of course," he continued, "if she'd have been around when the shit hit the fan, I probably would have been able to keep Alexcis." His words sounded a bit more weary, but it wasn't from physical exhaustion. Alexcis was another topic that very rarely ever came up in regular conversation. It wasn't that he didn't love his little girl, it's just that he didn't want anyone asking too many questions. He honestly didn't know why he was telling Lorelei about her at that moment. "Apparently the judicial system thinks that a child is almost always better off with their mother, no matter how much of a druggie slut the mother happens to be. Mom would have fought for as long as it took to keep her, though. I know she would have."

He turned his head to Lorelei and nodded slightly. "So, yeah," he said, forcing a small smile. "I guess things would have been a little different, but I probably would have still wound up here with you in rural Montana heading towards New York City in a - technically - stolen jeep."

The current thought amused her. It is technically stolen, isn't it?

Then she returned to her other thoughts, the ones that had been roused by his confession - if that is what she was going to call it. So. He's got a daughter. Or had one. Wow, that.. really sucks. And to top it off, she actually felt bad for him. Yeah, they'd had a few fights, but she could still see the paternity in him, with the way he was so immediate with his actions and concerns for her just because she wasn't in his gaze this morning. If he could get so amped up over being a bodyguard, he was sure to care for his daughter. Idly, she wondered how old she would be by now, but that was rude and too intrusive. Especially when she was just starting to like this guy.

"The Army, hmm? Thank you for your service." Haha, yeah, thanks for saving our country - but I hadn't thought twice about thanking you for directly saving my life. Whoops. "And.. thanks for last night. I'm pretty sure I would have ended up like that girl in the horror films who's running in her high heels, defying all physics and gravity with perfect poise until I run myself in to an alley and face my predator. Then I die. So, yeah. Thanks for that."

Should she even bring up her thoughts on his daughter? "Who's idea was the name Alexcis? I like it, personally. I bet she's a beautiful spitting image of her father. I suppose she'll grow up with good looks." She winked at him behind her shades, letting out a sigh. I really hope I didn't just cross a line.

"Why thank you," he said with a laugh. "For the service, the saving your life, and for the good looks comment. And her name was my idea. Alexcis Grace Biggs, my little ball of sunshine."

"Grace, I bet she has more than I do." She commented, joking with him.

"Oh, not in the slightest," he said with another laugh. "I was so worried when she started walking because the girl seemed like she could trip over air while standing still. The thought actually ran through my mind several times to wrap either her or everything we owned in bubble wrap to keep her from breaking anything." His smile widened and the shrank back to near nothing in almost an instant. "I wish I had a more recent picture that I could show you of her, but I haven't even got one. The only one I've got is one from her second birthday party."

Jackson raised himself off of the seat and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket with his free hand. He flipped it open, checked to see that the picture was still there with his own eyes, and then tossed it into Lorelei's lap.

She took the wallet delicately, as if it was a piece of glass that would shatter with too much pressure. She traced a finger over Alexcis' face, letting out a maternal sigh and nod. "She's gorgeous, Jackson. I bet you miss her a lot, hmm?"

The picture almost hurt her. She saw the pain in his eyes, the longing in his daughter's, and then the pit of her stomach reminded her that she'd never have this moment. Lorelei closed her eyes for a moment, shutting the wallet and placing her hands over it in hher lap, like a scared charm she didn't want to let go of just yet. Idly, she let her mind wander off to a place where Jackson had custody of his daughter, where she would run about and trip, he'd freak out, but everything would be okay in the end and they'd laugh. Or at least she would while he was recovering from his heart attack. She laughed, coming to join them before she shook her head back to reality. She wasn't a part of that picture, and Alexcis wasn't in his custody, and she'd never be able to produce another.

Oh well. Dreams were still nice.

"Well, this whole thing took a turn for the serious." Lorelei laughed nervously, handing the wallet back over to it's rightful owner. "So, how far away do you think we are from food?"

Jackson slid his wallet back into its hiding place and looked over at Lorelei quickly. "I have no earthly clue. How about you pull that fancy phone out and give us an idea?"