. dialing out

[jane ridley]

"Still a mess - but I can only care so much. The things I want to do for the most part I get to do, so the rest I'll figure out eventually." It's a constant source of worry and ambivalence depending on the day, half staring at the minimum payments and totals due in alarm, half not thinking twice about frivolous purchases that allow her to entertain at this level. "Trust me," she murmurs, wondering if Liam ever thought of her. Saw her life now, wondered what had happened. "I've learned my lesson. In men, not money management." The theory manifests in the way he kisses her, the edge of possession and something more melting into a contented smile on her lips. Playing on the undercurrent of competition that always seemed to exist, wanting to be chosen. Wanting to win. Jane curves her touch over the edge of his jaw, thumb brushing over the circles under his eyes before tapping his temple and falling away. "I'll bet," she says under her breath, brow arching at his suggestion. "I'll allow both. First - no, I don't either. I believe in chemistry and compatibility, but not all of it manifesting into one single person in this world. Second - say less. The Weathers spa is so luxe - face masks, massage - nail painting next?" Jane shifts to settle on the ground beneath him, letting the silence fall before closing her eyes and trying to figure out what to ask next. "What's something you wish people knew about you?"

[thompson weathers]

A common fear that ran through not just the Weathers household, but the school halls he attended, the galas and the ski trips, was that there were people out in the world who would want to be with Thompson and his ilk for monetary gain. Gold diggers were spoken of like a venereal disease, one that was rife amongst his social set. "Did you hear that Warren Davenport married a woman from Detroit?", "I heard that Caesar McCarthy was sleeping with his secretary, wonder what she sees in him", "I still can't believe Thompson married a waitress named Princess, can you?" Idle gossip, all of which was steeped in hypocrisy. Who didn't have standards when it came to a partner, desired traits that were non-negotiable? Why shouldn't women desire financial security, especially those who lack it to begin with? What was the big difference between his mother, Margaret Holmes, who came from a faded British dynasty rich in stature but woefully short of material assets, and Princess Weathers, a woman who grew up in a trailer park, desperate to leave? The answer is obvious, and it's the same one that drives a wedge between his world and Jane's, however easy it was to pretend. "I can't manage money either, which is why you need to have enough for it to stop mattering." Easy to say when you were born the son of one of the richest men on record in human existence. The feeling of her full lips against his, her fingers against his jawline, is enough to distract him from the train of thought. "I think you'll find you provided the face masks. If you've got nail stuff, I'm game." She settles onto the floor and he straddles her, rubbing his hands together to warm them. It was a hobby that he had found he had a natural gift for, perhaps coming naturally to him as it gave him an excuse for physical contact. He places his hands at the slope of her neck, his thumbs pressing in at the nape, gently at first but building some pressure.  The lack of eye contact makes it easier to speak freely, though he hadn't exactly been struggling with that up until this point. "Hmm. I don't know, honestly. I'm a pretty open book... I guess I'd like people to know that I am trying." He doesn't elaborate, instead pondering his next question to her. He takes the opportunity to dig deeper, both physically and in his line of questioning. "Do you think your religious upbringing had any effect on you? I used to date a Catholic girl, I think it made her nuts."

[jane ridley]

"Money you're either born with or fall into these days - the 'self-made' era died when all of them realized they could just be greedy and fuck everyone else over for a profit." Not one to delve into deep social issues, Jane leaves her thoughts at that. It was one thing to hustle for economic gains, her job a testament to how lucrative it could be if you played it right. But it was another thing to realize it wouldn't last. Inevitably you would get older, someone new and sparkly would come along, and you'd be left on the sidelines. It's why she couldn't fault people for going to great lengths to get what they wanted at the expense of social costs; sometimes, it was literally the only way. Laughing under her breath, Jane motions to her bag she'd left on the opposite couch. "Pink, red, or black, take your pick." She's not sure how she knew that he'd be open for whatever she threw at him, but the warm thrill that she'd been right relaxed the tense muscles of her shoulders, overworked and toned from pilates and bottle carries, now melting under the firm pressure of his touch. Maybe because of his girls, a theory subtly confirmed with the answer to his question. "Do you think Princess lets them have nail polish yet?" She slowly drops her neck, half in a nod and half in relaxation, until his question forces a tense pinch in her shoulders, slowly rolling them back in annoyance to her jerk reaction. "I think it was similar to what happens to Catholic school girls who get a taste of another world - take a hard right, make a lot of mistakes, party a little too hard. Which happened in college for me - late bloomer. Now I think it's interesting how much I reject of it all, while my sister went the other way. Verdict's still out on Evie, but I think she'll be normal...whatever that means." Jane's eyes lull shut, comforted in the dark and the quiet. "Did you ever have any other aspirations, aside from family adjacencies?"

[thompson weathers]

Uncontroversial though her views on late stage capitalism are, they are views that Thompson has not often been exposed to. Shockingly, those hoarding wealth did not often look critically at their role in the world. On some unconscious level, he subscribed to the same belief as most of his peers; if someone wanted it enough, they could get it. "Marrying into it seems the most straightforward route forward. Want me to get down on one knee?" In a way she was proof of his theory, having been able to access a similar lifestyle through her savvy hustling. But it was never the same, would never be the same, as his semi-ex wife had come to find out the hard way. "Oh, gotta be black. My masculinity is too fragile for pink." Her skin is incredibly soft under his fingertips, though her muscles are tight and resistant to pressure. It's satisfying to work through the knots as he finds them, though she jolts and he holds his hands off for a second. "Just let me know if it hurts too much," he murmurs, going back to it. She carried so much tension, it was a stark contrast her her usual poise. "Yeah. She got their ears pierced once, I was furious but I don't really have a leg to stand on when it comes to playing the responsible parent part." He listens carefully to her answer. The late bloomer part is especially interesting and it confirms what he already suspected, that people who take their time coming out of their shell tend to develop in much more interesting ways than their peers who rush in headfirst. "You turned out pretty well." He slips his hands further down her toned shoulders, letting out a short laugh. "Honestly? No. I went to college to meet girls. What did you study?"

[jane ridley]

It's funny how they can come to a similar solution, yet differ so vastly on the implications. It's obvious - marry into wealth, enjoy your spoils. But on the inside there's a hierarchy Jane is sure she'd never understand; as nuanced as she was at entertaining people in a different social structure, there were undercurrents that ran so richly underneath blood lines she'd be playing catch up her entire life. Not that she wouldn't be up for the challenge, shifting to peak over her shoulder with a smirk. "I don't have any interest in being a sister wife at this time, thank you. I'll just enjoy the spoils." In all honesty she's enjoying these dropped pretenses as well, shifting out of his touch briefly only to grab her bag, tossing the polish and various needs on the table along with it. "Emo phase it is." Her body's a rare giveaway to her true feelings, unable to hide exhaustion or a flush or the countless hours spent spun up on her feet in five inch heels. A tell she could never rid of, mumbling that it was fine under her breath; his question had caught her more off guard than the pressure, having shed that part of her life so long ago. "That's like a rite of passage, though," she continues, leaning back into the conversation as she popped another treat between her lips. Her touch drifts from her mouth to his wrist, a brief brush of thanks as his compliment warms her skin. As much as she could have tried to predict this night, it wouldn't have been anything close to what this was. Intimate, personal and surprisingly effortless. "Business and marketing, very basic and very boring. I went to get out of my small town, honestly - Columbus is a little more lively than everyone thinks." Her eyes flutter shut as he works through another knot. "Fuck, this feels so good. Longest you've ever gone without sleeping?"

[thompson weathers]

He laughs at her comment, nodding. That's what she'd be, really. Bigamy felt like a natural next step for him, given that he was separated with a complete unwillingness to actually divorce. "If you change your mind, I can ask Cece for her ring back." It felt good to be able to speak so candidly, knowing Jane was the least likely person to get jealous. Was that because he was a client, or because she just wasn't that way inclined? He doesn't want to ask the question, fearing the answer though he can't really pinpoint which answer he'd like less. Watching as she fishes out the nail polish, his mind wanders to what else a girl like Jane might pack into an overnight bag - probably anything he could dream of. "I hope you aren't expecting me to do yours, my hand-eye co-ordination sucks." He continues massaging her as she encourages him to, wondering if she'd ever admit if he had gone too far - either physically or with his line of enquiry. Only one way to find out, and that was to keep on prying until he was shut out. "There's honestly nothing boring or basic about you... except that major." Her fingers brush against his wrist and it's amazing how much impact a small touch could have, sending a jolt through his body that makes him want to pull her tight against himself. But he resists, satisfying his desire for contact by moving his touch down her spine, his fingers dipping below the neckline of her shirt. "Just tell me where you want it. Hm, maybe three days? I was kinda insane by the end. What's your longest relationship?"

[jane ridley]

"Do you actually want to divorce her?" Jane knows it's out of turn but her tongue's imbued by the champagne and a strange, settled feeling he'd tell her the truth. Something she hid from so frequently, gently being coaxed out of her as the evening bled into the dark. It felt simple to be honest in these hours, led by the comfort they'd established and the sweet, silly undertones they'd lean on if it became too much. Jane wrinkles her nose; this all seemed so date like. But the sour feeling didn't flood through her as she expected it to at the realization, flickering her already painted baby pink nails in the air. "Freshly done, you're in luck." "And the accountant," she reminds, a further list running in her mind that she'd likely never expose. On paper she was boring but in person she knew she'd composed herself into something, pitching forward as his touch trailed down. Wondering when he'd reach the edge of her silk camisole underneath, the gentle undercurrent of more that always lingered, faintly, in the air. Her lips draw into a smirk at the thought. "Can think of a few places later...but for now, this is amazing. I kind of thought you were kidding, but you weren't. As for your question...I guess it's kind of a tie between the accountant and my college boyfriend. Football player, dumb as a rock but was affectionate. Both around a year." The darkness behind her closed eyes swirls, melting even further. "What was different about Princess?"

[thompson weathers]

"No." It's an easy answer and an honest one. The divorce papers are sat on the desk in his study a mere few feet away from them, where they've gathered dust for months now. Even Princess seemed to have accept that no amount of bargaining or begging would change his mind, though why he was so reticent was a different entirely. "I don't know why not, it's not like we're good for each other, or like we even see each other these days." It's a confession he's never said out loud, never even alluded to, and it feels liberating to be so direct. He grins at being off the hook for her nails, because of course they were already freshly manicured - Jane was nothing if not polished. He wants a full breakdown of her dating history but knows she won't want to fully flesh out the Wikipedia article he was writing about her in his mind. He laughs at her innuendo. This was probably the longest he'd ever had a girl back at his place (admittedly she was the first he'd had back here, but  any of his places) without trying to bed her. "I'm a man of many surprises, Ridley." College boyfriend. He wonders what she was like at college, where she went and what people thought of her at the time. "A year? That's it? You are a commitmentphobe, however much you deny it." He sits back on the couch, freeing her from his touch. "Come up here and I'll give you a foot massage if you want. What's with all the Cece questions, has she put you up to it?"

[jane ridley]

Surprisingly, she expects the answer. For the kids would be an easy enough explanation but she felt like she knew it was just more. An unexplainable, something that kept them tethered together no matter the immense amount of distance they put between one another. As bright eyed as Cece had come off upon their first meeting there was something memorable about her. Unforgettable, even with a fleeting moment. Jane would all but admit to having a crush on her if she didn't recognize the tempestuous flares as jealousy. "Sometimes it's just not explainable." Jane feels like that answers her other question as well, turning her body to rest back against the coffee table and finally finding his gaze again. It's warm, open, something she falls into as she motions for his hands. "Feet freak me out, and it's time for your nail appointment anyway," Looking away quickly to grab her supplies she stifles a laugh into her shoulder, low and mirthless as she shakes her head. "Or men are just cheats and liars." She lets it drop there, shaking the base coat in her palm before effortlessly starting on a clear coat. It's easier again to concentrate when she has somewhere else to focus. "She didn't, but I think I answered my own question before. What's your love language?"

[thompson weathers]

It was no secret that their divorce was not mutual, so much so that he had confirmed as much happily to TMZ. He loved teasing his ex wife however he could, flaring up publicity when he was bored or annoyed at something she'd done, or especially when he had other sins he'd rather go unreported. But he feels a little sheepish talking about it with Jane, not just because she knows her, knew her even before he did, but because he has no real idea what's going on between the two of them, here in this room. "I'm not saying I want to be with her either, that doesn't work." This is a true observation too, he wasn't making any attempts to win her back. There was just something too final about signing on the dotted line, even with twins to tether them together for years to come. She turns to face him and she's prettier than he remembered even from a few moments before-- maybe the masks had just worked that well. He laughs as she takes his hands, completely unbothered by the prospect of having a manicure. "Yeah, I'd say that's a fair assessment." He leans forward so she can have good access to his hands, watching as she works. As with everything she did, she was applying with absolute precision. "Oh god, not that. Our couples counsellor used to ask that, I have no idea... receiving gifts, I'm shallow. What about you? Wait, let me guess..." A slow smirk spreads across his face as he plucks one from his memory. "Acts of service?"

[jane ridley]

"Like I said - unexplainable." Jane's dark gaze focuses on the seamless application of the dark polish, reflection blurry in its pitched shade. Encounter enough people and vices and everything became tenuous after a while, a matter of gray areas and technicalities. Tom was intriguing enough to her - strangely focused on her other partners at times, yet dangling a divorce that never seemed it would happen in front of his estranged wife - to keep her interest. Dancing around one another with full truths and drunken honesty, but a strange disinterest in labels or true next steps. It was an ideal situation, if she considered it all. Benefitting her without any uncomfortable conversations, the hint of a smile softening her features as she blows gently on his first coat to dry it. "Words of affirmation, actually," she admits, another chip for him to add to his wheelhouse. In all honesty it wasn't the physical compliments, or obsessions, or passionate pleas. It was a pride thing, an admittance she'd never divulge. Instead she inspects her work, going in to start her second application. "Receiving gifts is a close second," Jane adds, tucking her hair behind her ear. Her eyes flicker upward momentarily, quick to pose her next question. "Craziest place you've had sex?"

[thompson weathers]

"Probably more inexplicable than unexplainable. A mystery that will never be solved." He watches as she meticulously paints his nails, grinning to himself as the thought of what the twins would think about it slipped through his mind. A rare thought for Thompson, but one that was increasing in frequency as they got older and developed more distinct personalities, rather than the writhing, screaming blobs that they sometimes felt like as newborns. Tomorrow he knew she would slip into her usual poise, aloof but accommodating, slipping perfectly between his friends in a way that would make them feel good about themselves whilst simultaneously signalling that she was there for him and him alone. She had an incredible talent in that area. There's something quite tender about her blowing on his manicure and it's this that makes him put tomorrow off, refusing to look at the time in case the night was further along than he wanted it to be. "You are full of surprises!" It's true, that is a surprise. He puts the hand she isn't focusing on gently on her shoulder, careful not to disturb the polish. "You're doing great sweetie. How's that?" It was probably silly that his was receiving gifts, what with everything being at his fingertips, but it was small gestures that showed someone thought of him when he wasn't immediately in front of him that really managed to move him. He laughs at her question. "Jane Ridley, are we playing truth or dare? Are we fifteen? But ok. My dad's desk, head office, when he was just out grabbing coffee. Wild, I know." He thinks about his next question more carefully. "Would we still hang out if I lost everything? Remember, honesty above everything."

[jane ridley]

As the night unfurls between them, Jane's curiosity pitches further into her mind. Hours laid out ahead for her to explore, rooms to peruse and empty minutes left for them to fill. She half wonders if she'll spend the night as it drawls on - if she'll feel luxe sheets under heated skin, whose shampoo she'll use in the shower. Her bag had been meticulously packed for that just in case, thrill coursing through her at the memory she was a first here. Jane's gaze flickers to his then rolls over, raising her shoulder to rid herself of his touch as a sheen of blush dapples her cheeks. "Very authentic, I can feel my pride just glowing." It's almost strange that it doesn't always translate to sex - the one facet that she keeps trying to rid herself of. An innate need to make someone else proud, to seek their authentic approval for everyday life; Jane was slowly trying to withdraw from it, and it had yet to disappear. So she buried it further, laughing coyly as she went to grab the hand previously burning her shoulder. Even through clothes, their connection could be palpable. "Definition of a quickie, sounds like," she jokes, features falling as she considers his next question. "I don't know, honestly. The money drew me, the chemistry kept me. I also have a very hard time rationalizing you losing everything, so. My hypothetical answer is I do not know." She's quiet for a few moments, finishing up a layer of quick dry coat, before placing it on his knee to dry. "I also know that, hypothetically, if I didn't look like this we would have likely never spoken more than once, so. The shallowness of the world is kind of fun." Jane moves to stand, swiping her champagne glass off the table and feeling the sugar transfer on the rim as she pressed it to her lips. "How different do you think your life would be if you didn't have kids?"

[thompson weathers]

Thompson knows he should be more protective. Of his space, of his history, of his life. He should care that she might wander his halls, absorbing his life by treading floorboards that had yet to be explored even by his wife. He should lie more about his thoughts and his motivations, should obscure the past. But Jane is a disarming person and this is a disarming evening, and try as he might, he simply couldn't see the risk as unworthy of the reward. There's an edge to Jane's response that he files away. Clearly the words of affirmation came with a caveat, or maybe her desire to hear them was born of something she wasn't entirely comfortable with. Either way, interesting. "I would have guessed you'd be too confident to need external validation." He starts blowing on the hand she'd previously been working on, mimicking what he'd seen on TV. He nods along. "I don't even like quickies, as you know. Think it was some sort of paternal psycho-control thing, always weird when your sex life overlaps with your family issues." He listens to her answer intently, and as he does, he's satisfied that she's telling the absolute truth. Her response makes him laugh, unexpected but true. "Are you suggesting that if you got really fat and I got really broke, there's a chance this would fall apart?" It's easy to ignore the question of what 'this' was. "Oh fuck, my life would be so much easier. Kids suck." He feels guilty as he says it, which is novel He softens. "They're hard work. They immediately change everything. Do you want them?"

[jane ridley]

"Pride thing," she mumbles in a half thought, eyes widening briefly as she realizes her slip. A rare break in the construction she'd meticulously assembled, features held carefully neutral as she finished her final touches. Jane half hopes her tone alludes to not pressing further, but she wishes more it had never been said in the first place. It was dangerous, doing that. Trying to push past her own careful limits, pulling a few bricks out from her steely, pretty exterior. God forbid hope enter the equation, horror slicing through her brain in such a stark chill it shocked her right back out of her own head. "Was it with his assistant? Would have really been the cherry on top," Jane breathes, lips turned upward in an echoing laugh. "I'm suggesting that if I got fat and ugly, this definitely would." It's sad but true, something she can ground herself in as she drowns in another sip. The sweetness has gone straight to her head at this point, teetering on the verge of a sugared migrane as she disagrees. "No, baby fever's never been a fan of infecting me," Jane admits, parenting not a equation she'd ever really worked herself into. Even with decent parents, it hadn't really called to her. "Who's your least favorite sibling?"