FanFiction.Net - unleash your imagination
Alice in June
Author of 41 Stories |
Compromise
By Ophelia Winters
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Red Eye' or 'Mean Girls'. If I owned 'Red Eye', I would use the ending of 'Bleed like me' by No One Mourns the Wicked. I would have paid Ashley every cent too. Shout-outs to Linda Goodman, Coldplay and this Smallville fic I can't remember. The lyrics are from Garbage's 'Butterfly Collector'. With all due respect, I really hate that song and that
band.
Author's notes: And one day there will be Pig/Regina fics, not mention whoever the hell Cillian is playing in 'The wind that shakes the barley' and Allie fics.
You've achieved your aim by making the walking lame,
And when you just can't get any higher,
You use your senses to suss out this week's climber,
And the small fame that you've acquired,
Has brought you into cult status but to me you're still a collector.
He was surprised really at how easy it was, it was criminal really. He hated her sometimes, he hated having to watch her all day long either sharing useless gossip with some of her idiotic friends or closing business deals. He hated the fact that she changed hair colors like people changed underwear. Her current boyfriend was Alex Keefe, there were rumors that they were engaged and she was spotted wearing a diamond engagement ring (she's in her twenties). They had been dating for about 5 months now and he knows the only reason she's still with him is because he's filthy rich, painfully powerful and criminally stupid.
He even hated her when he saw that useless piece of flesh called her fiancé hold her hand, kiss her ... idle thoughts, idle thoughts. He had no time for those, he was a professional. Anyhow, this was going to be good. He could get back at her and that stupid, stupid fiancé.
He liked that she was so easy to seduce. The way he held off that man who insulted her in the check-in line, he should be proud of himself.
She seemed like such a nice girl though, trying to make that man in the check-in line back off, the way she flirted with him in Tex Mex and not mention the fact that she traveled coach despite being the owner of some of the most important hotels in the United States of America (of course there was a reason for that and she didn't seem to complain much). This was going to be so much fun. Or probably not. She was an ex-cheerleader and a social climber. He couldn't exactly be sure of how to handle her.
He hates her even more right now for the fact that her grandmother died on him and now he had to carry this out on a plane.
She has auburn hair today.
She looks genuinely surprised and it amuses him. However, she doesn't look like she's willing to comply. She presses the button for the flight attendant anyway.
She gathers some air to speak.
"And what are you going to do if I don't?" She doesn't look like she’s dying for an answer though but then again she's a perfect liar.
"You bury your dad and Alex in closed caskets."
She smiles at him and he wonders why.
"Is that all?" Her voice is velvety and she takes her time to ask him the question.
He feels stupid but he'll die before he lets her know that.
"You think I'm bluffing."
"No, no, I don't." She is sincere of course and her face has this serious expression, like she's contemplating how to get rid of world poverty.
"So ..." He mocks her.
"Well, listen, my dad just got remarried and from the likes of it, it seems that his current wife and their kids are going to get my share of his trust fund."
"And Alex ..." He snorts.
"They're a dozen a dime, men like Alex, what is it ... Jackson Rippp-nurrr?" She raises an eyebrow and her lips twist into a little smile.
He feels insulted and hence enraged. She butchered his name.
"You really think I'm bluffing, don't you?"
"Listen sweetie, you're the one who has a job to do. Me? Two dead men means a paid vacation. I dare you, go call your dog. Let's see what happens."
For a while, the world is at a standstill.
He doesn't know it but her mouth is dry and they're both in deep shit. He can remedy this situation if he wants to, but right now he thinks he'd rather listen to her.
She collects herself though. She's much of a strategist.
"Oh don't gape at me like that, sweetie. People gape at Regina George for lots of reasons but you're just doing it for all the wrong ones. I don't really need two deaths in my life but they'll just be inconveniences. You ..." she drawls, savoring the helpless little look on his face.
"You know," she leans back on the hard mattress of the airplane seat and sighs. "If you really do work for these people who carry out high-profile assassinations and what not, then you'll be the one in trouble if I don't make the call."
His throat is dry and his palms are sweating but he doesn't notice. He hears one or two voices in the background but right now he can swear that he's deaf, dumb and blind.
"What do they do to people like you who fail their assignments, Jackson?" Her voice is soft and faux sympathetic but it's still contemplative. "Do they spank you? Do they kill you, Jack? Do they ..."
She is cut short by the flight attendant. He grits his teeth. The flight attendant is tall enough, she's a brunette and you could tell she was pretty when she was younger. She's in her early forties. She would look better though but she looks like she worries a lot. She has a strict looking face.
"You called?" She asks pleasantly. She knows that Miss George is a very, very important person and she's flying coach for a very stupid mistake.
"Yes. I want a glass of water and this young man," she stops to gesture to Jackson. "And this young man wants some red wine, or was it white wine? Or maybe a mixture of both."
The flight attendant is confused. The young man has a white face and the young lady a one that carefully conceals mirth.
"We'll see." She replies uncomfortably.
"Thanks." She replies in a sugarcoated voice that men fall for.
"So, where were we?" She smiles and snaps back her head to his direction.
She knows whatever she's doing is working. She looks at him and suddenly he forgets what his father's name was.
"You want to get the job done and I have no problems with Alex's uncle being buried in a closed casket. This should work out properly but you should let me have my end of the bargain."
He's even stopped reacting.
"What do you mean?" His mechanical voice asks.
"Reciprocation. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."
"I know," he grits his teeth all of a sudden. "I meant what do you want."
"You."
He blinks for a second and now he's not sure who he is because whoever he is, is never like this.
"I beg pardon."
"No, you don't," she replies cheekily. "And you heard me right."
"I don't do this." He laughs incredulously.
She laughs with him.
"C'mon it's your job and you're a professional. I know you."
"What are you talking about?" He stops.
"I've seen you before. At parties, at bars ..." She has a Cheshire grin on her face. "I thought you were a stalker. Life's so full of surprises. Isn't it?"
He's still quiet.
"I saw the way you'd look at me. It was like well you had this look on your face for a second and then you would look away and you looked like you were mocking yourself. Kind of Shakespearean actually."
She sighs.
It's then he catches her eye and realizes that he really, really hates his job and he hates compromise. But the idea of a one night stand as a compromise doesn't seem so bad when he realizes that she'll be doing her part.
You have white wine with fish and red wine with meat. Regina's a hot-blooded woman but she can be cold like a fish, her skin however does not shine like fish scales. In fact, it glows.
You're a different kind 'cause you want their minds,
And you just don't care 'cause you've got no brains,
It's just a face on your pillowcase that thrills you.
He's backed up against the cold bathroom wall and he can feel the cold despite the fact that he's supposed to be wearing a shirt. He feels solid and like a whore, but he's always felt a little dirty ever since he was 7, he doesn't know why it should be any different at 27. At least, she wasn't making him walk through the plane with his pants down. Although she probably would if she wanted to.
He's uncaring and bothered by how the deft fingers on her right hand languidly play with the buttons of his shirt. He almost wants to tell her to be careful with his Armani shirt for a second. There is no necessity of this really because it looks like his chest, itself is going to rip the shirt. She takes a peek at his bare chest and it's like she's seen God' most beautiful creation. He rolls his eyes. She might as well just lick her lips. She wanted to but he would do a better job of it.
"How long are you going to keep doing this?"
"We're a little impatient, aren't we?"
No, we aren't.
"I'm beginning to wonder if you actually do know something about this."
She's fucked stars. She's a Starfucker. And in a few seconds, he will be one too. He doesn't know that she's experienced enough for the both of them.
"I've been doing this ever since I was 16." She sweetly purrs.
"Old dogs don't learn new tricks."
Bad move. Regina just smiles because she knows that he feels uncomfortable because he feels some of the blood rush south. He wants to close his legs but she happily stands between them. He really hasn't done this in a while, has he?
He can smell her Lolita Lempicka as her face nears his. How ironic, how moronic. He can smell the lavender, honey and milk. It's sweet, sickeningly sweet and it suffocates him. Her lips brush past his and when she puts her hand on his kneecap, it makes him wonder if this is what it's like to be violated.
He kisses her back as her left hand travels up his thigh. He gasps at something she does and ironically enough the last time he opens his eyes during their quickie, that he knows she'll thank him for, he sees her and he can swear she looks not a day older than 16 or 17. It's supposed to be disturbing the idea of such a young girl doing these things to him but it's not. It's actually kind of erotic.
And you've started looking much older,
And you're fashion sense is second rate like your perfume,
But to you in your own little dream world,
You're still the queen of the butterfly collectors.
There's turbulence on the plane. At least it made the quickie fun. She winks at the little girl who blushes and he grudgingly gets back to his seat. They both straighten their clothes, hoping that the clothes haven't wrinkled because they're both a little obsessed with designer brands. They both check the phones as he makes some sarcastic little comments.
The phones aren't working.
"Well," she sighs with the satisfaction of a very smug woman. "Now what do we do."
"Excuse me," he asks the younger flight-attendant.
"Yes."
"Why aren't the phones working?"
"It happens sometimes when there's turbulence, we're sorry about the inconvenience."
Like hell you are.
"Well, how soon do you think they'll start working again?"
"As soon the turbulence stops, hopefully." She replies condescendingly.
He looks at Regina grudgingly after the flight-attendant leaves.
"You don't even have a plan B."
"If this doesn't go well our plan is to ..."
"Right, kill dad and Alex. Don't bother and don't even talk about my mom. I'll pay you to get rid of her. She's always been such an embarrassment to me Ever since I was 15 she used to ..."
He slams his forehead against hers and there's blessed silence. He gently places her head on a pillow and brushes the hair away from her face.
He wipes away the blood on his forehead, knowing that it's a small price to pay for the golden silence. He sighs softly and raises an eyebrow at that nosy little flight attendant.
Well fuck you too.
He quietly prays that the phone lines start working again soon because his life depends on it.
He looks at her, looking all peaceful and quiet and he contemplates something. If they were ever married, the only time he'd be able to tolerate her was if she was either sleeping with him or just sleeping. It would be like keeping a woman pregnant and barefoot.
He allows himself to relax for a while.
Mrs. and Mrs. Rippner, he muses looking at her.
Idle thoughts, idle thoughts.
"Augh," she groans.
She's a bit unsure, even scared but she won't let him know that.
She pulls off her heavy and hurt head off the pillow and rubs the back of her head for a while. She quickly shoves the pills into her mouth and gulps down the water.
"Should I get your credit card out?" He smarmily asks.
"You do not live to serve, you serve to live."
He makes a face like he's wondering the hell that has to do with anything.
"Well thank for you for the pearls of ..."
She snatches the phone from his hand and dials the phone number of the hotel.
"Sylvia, Cynthia ... whatever." She rolls her eyes a bit. "Listen about ..."
The plane lands early enough and when it does, he makes sarcastic comments about her unkindness and shallow behavior. His endeavor is successful as he manages to hit nerves.
She can see right through him and if he stays longer, he will be able to see right through her as well. She knows he's bitter that they won't meet again. She won't let him have the satisfaction of knowing that this wouldn't be the last time. Not if she could help it.
"Why do you care?"
"You've learnt everything about me and I think I ..."
"Don't flatter yourself."
"So you're this unprepared for these assignments?" She talks to him condescendingly which is what he deserves for treating her the same way. "Whatever." She rolls her eyes. "C'mon answer my question."
"17," he concedes finally.
"I joined my high school hockey team when I was 17."
"I know."
They smile at each other.
"I always knew you'd be a jock if you were a guy."
"Bet you got beaten by some. I dated jocks." She rolls her eyes.
He shudders a little.
"You're threatened by me. I'm smart and that scares you." She gleams at him.
"Smart and shallow. What's the world coming to with women like you?"
"You're right. You're not really threatened by me, I actually fascinate you; you think it's kind of sexy actually. But you are a bit of chauvinist."
"You are so presumptuous," he chuckles despite the fact that the caffeine scalds his tongue.
"And so are you. Except it doesn't get me into trouble. We should learn a lesson from each other."
Alex's uncle, the home minister is dead by 9 AM. Jackson spends just 40 minutes with her after the flight at Starbucks much to his relief.
Yet he can't be but a little disappointed as he watches her leave.
You can't light a fire; you can't cook or sew,
You get from day to day by filling your head,
But you surely must know the thrill between your legs has worn off.
Regina stifles a yawn and rolls her eyes. She wonders if wearing her sunglasses would have been a bad idea since some people are giving her looks now. She could give less of a damn.
She hates Keefe and Alex's father who was her father's business partners and the fact that her father's being a mayor made him 'close' with Keefe. She doesn't really care that he had a wife and two kids because a) Auntie Keefe always had a plan and b) she wasn't going to pay the kids' therapist bills.
She laughs a little bitterly thinking about therapists.
Regina George isn't exclusively screwed up or a very bad person. She knows that he would never tell his dogs or whatever to kill her father and Alex. Not that he didn't have the cajones to do it (she could swear that if looks could kill, Jackson would have murdered her by now). She just wanted to teach him that nobody messed with the mother of intimidation tactics. His plan would have worked but he had underestimated her. She hated it when people did that.
She always wanted to own things- men, purses, hotels, ad infinitum. She got good grades in University, not because she had a little fun with one or two professors (which she never did) but she was damn smart and damn intelligent.
Regina smiles when she thinks back to her 'Plastic' days. People envied her because she had a great body, great boyfriends and yes she got great grades. She was perfect in every sense. She was like a doll. The thing about beautiful people is that they're harder to understand because of their beauty. We seem to have preconceived notions about beautiful people and what they're supposed to be like. It's actually kind of ironic that it's our own fault that we treat people like Regina like Barbie dolls.
Her image was harder to maintain after the Plastics broke up but she was still popular and the fact that she was nice after that made her even more popular. People would go the hockey matches to just see her. She realized that she should have been nice from before. She wondered what Cady would think. We never change, do we?
But she was a better person. She knows she's responsible for Keefe's death but she also knows that there was a backup plan whether or not Jackson knew about it. Or maybe she was overestimating his organization. Whatever.
She's more disciplined than she was when she was a teenager, she supposes that she's nicer and more helpful and she's definitely worldlier.
She tries to incur some sort of sympathy or guilt in herself but it doesn't work.
There's something on her mind. It's Jackson. She didn't mind Alex but Alex is no keeper. She knows that the only reason he stays with her is because he is going to get more out of their relationship than she is. Jackson on the other hand- he's really something, a treat to be sure. He's different and exciting, not like any man she has ever dated. He brings out a side of her that people would be afraid of. It was like flirting with the darker side of yourself. Their association would bring her no profit and she didn't care. She was rich and respectable enough for the both of them. Even pretty.
She sighs, sipping some expensive wine, trying to wash off the taste of the cheap one she had a while ago. She looks around to see all the people who are dressed in black and hopefully in mourning. It seems like her image is so much harder to maintain with every passing phase in her life.
She looks around again and realizes that she can't stay here a moment longer.
Her cell phone rings. Ah, saved by the bell.
She gets a call that one of her 'friends' just gave birth and it's only when she hangs up that Regina starts protesting that she can't go to the hospital, that Alex needs her. She raises the pitch of her voice a little as she asks her friend if it can wait. Alex comes near her and asks her what the matter is. She tells her friend to hold on for a second and she tells Alex about how her friend is in labor and she needs her. Alex pretends to understand and spews some crap about life and death.
She rushes out before she can complete a Psychology course through him.
He looks fantastic. Strands of light brown hair fall over his eyes.
Her hair is black today and it shines in the soft light. It brushes against her cashmere vest and her pumps press against the shiny black floor as her hips sway to his side.
"I was hoping I would find you here."
He looks up to smile at her sweetly. Or at her cleavage. It's hard to tell.
"I was waiting for you."
She wonders if he's putting up a facade to conceal a man who was so stripped of his dignity.
She smiles back and takes a seat beside him. She straightens her skirt. She can smell his attractive cologne (she knows it's not aftershave) and he smells sharp, cool and salty like sea breeze and seawater. She thinks that she can drown in him.
She likes seabreezes and she knows she's lucky that she got to sit beside him before anyone showed up.
The bartender asks if she wants something but she declines. She's a bit of a lightweight.
"This was the first place I saw you. About eight weeks back. Yeah," she giggles, answering the question he didn't ask. "You're lucky I didn't report you to the police."
"I am a bit of a romantic."
"Oh are you?"
He chuckles.
He smells so nice that she thinks she could drown in his fragrance.
"So what are you here, for?" He sips his Chardonnay.
"I got bored. Funerals are so dreary."
"Yes, Reggie, that's why they're funerals."
"Oh Jack," her sirens beckon. His mocking expression fades as he looks into her deep green eyes, they're calming. His own eyes are blue, a color that's suppose to be calming but the shade of blue that is in his eyes is lucid and eerie. Not calming.
"I assume you know the same things about Keefe that I do."
"Cheater but not a wife beater."
"And he almost violated me," her soft voice replies.
He's genuinely interested now and if he was a rabbit, his bunny ears would prick up.
"Yeah," she doesn't sound like a valley girl anymore and no one would accuse her of ever being one right now.
"It was on the day we got engaged. Alex was probably making out with a girl friend of one of his best friends and he came into our room ..." she stops for a second. She goes blank for a while. "He never even mentioned it later on."
He's listening to her carefully. Observing every flick of her hair and every motion of her fingers.
He doesn't apologize for a crime he didn't commit and she's surprised somehow.
"Why are you still with Alex? Did you ever tell him?" However he makes up for it by sounding sympathetic.
"Keefe's a home minister. It doesn't matter who I am or who my father is, I'm supposed to be a gold digger." She looks a bit sad. "And the Keefes have some sort of idea that he'll become president someday. They need somebody who looks smart."
He smiles her appreciatively.
"Why are you still with him?"
She laughs. "Why does it matter to you?"
"I was hoping that you would probably well ... have the dignity to leave him. You're beautiful, young, smart and you're with one of the wealthiest bachelors in Miami."
She knows what he's implying.
"You think I'm a gold digger, too."
"No, but it explains a lot."
She snorts.
"Why don't we have a wager? I'll part ways with him before a year."
"What's the prize?" He asks before she can say anything.
He's too calm, too composed and she realizes something -that no matter who wins or loses, he'll be the one to actually gain something out of it.
They understand each other and she knows she's probably going to bite off more than she can chew. She suddenly tastes the red wine on her lips. It's tangy, sharp, intoxicating and cool.
'Cause the world's insane and we're all to blame anyway,
And I don't feel any sorrow,
Towards the kings and queens of the butterfly collectors.
She learns to be a bit scared of him but honestly who wouldn't be? He's like the bogeyman in a suit. And truth be told she kind of likes it. She likes that fact they're the sort of couple who won't meet all week but have brunches every weekend. Or fall in love every weekend.
She liked the idea of redemption now and then but any chance of that was thrown out of the window when she made the proposition to Jackson Rippner that fateful flight. She would comfort herself by donating to charities and with the famous saying that 'good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere'.
Anyway she doesn't mope about it much these days.
She thinks she does love Jackson Rippner or at least feels some sort of affection towards him and not just during afterglows. But at least she has fun with him and she can discover that side of her from the Plastics days that she misses sometimes.
She likes being with him, she is thrilled by that fact that she might get caught by the press when she's with Jackson and people will talk about what a tart she is. However, she doesn't want to get caught. She wants her reputation to be as spotless as it can be. Jackson is amused by this fear of hers and she tries to see to it that he doesn't get her into trouble. He's such a bastard sometimes and she's always been a bitch. Alex, fortunately enough, never suspects a thing.
She supposes that if they ever got married, then she would actually benefit from it somehow. People would talk about how one of the most powerful and richest women in the States, who had dated one or two celebrities, was very down-to-earth because she married a nice, simple man from a middle-class background. She doesn't think they'll ever know about his job or its horrifying details like she does.
She hasn't considered marrying him, yet. It's too early. He's her tennis partner in the court, he's her live-in lover during summer when she's blonde and whenever they're both free and she wouldn't mind it if he could be her sperm donor although she's not sure she wants children. Hmm, a little Rippner or George. Now she'd have to pay his or her therapy bills.
Anyhow, they'll still be 'together' when her hair is white and he is old and gray.
She spends time with Jackson in a hotel suite in New York that she and Alex would go to. He hates the idea of staying in a suite that she used to share with someone else but he stops protesting once they're on the bed and she has him handcuffed to the bedpost and pinned underneath her.
They're in the biggest and most expensive suite right now. It's on the highest floor and it has a lovely view of the ocean.
Regina's more pragmatic than she used to be when she was a Plastic and she's more open to compromise after the red eye flight. Morals, who gets to be on top, who cares?
So she giggles when Jackson uses a silk tie as a blindfold and wraps it around her eyes. It's a nice contrast to her auburn hair. His cool lips press against the soft glowing skin of her shoulders as his fingers pull down the zipper of her dress.
Compromise can be a good thing.
End notes: Blame 'Match Point', sleep deprivation and caffeine for the last scene. Right now my eyes are bleeding. Say something nice or nothing at all.
:
:
:
:
