The Last Blues We're Ever Gonna Have

Chapter 7

    "James, repeat that. The com keeps breaking up." The only reply was more static through the communicator in his ear. Clint muttered under his breath, cursing the oppressive Nevada heat as his eyes scoured the empty compound. He tried to blink the sand out of his eyes. Beside him, Penelope was nearly vibrating with nerves. Her fingers twitched at her side, just inches from her holster. He couldn't really blame her. It was quiet, eerily so, and their barely functioning communicators didn't exactly elicit confidence. The defunct military compound was so far into the desert, cell phones and radios were useless. Which, he supposed, was why their informant had requested meeting there.
    "I don't like this," Penelope whispered. He glanced down at her again, grunting in agreement. He wasn't particularly fond of the situation they found themselves either. But they'd been trying for a lead on this Ukrainian Gun Runner for weeks before finally making contact with one of his former partners, conveniently sitting in prison on charges of illegal sale of firearms and ammunition in New Mexico. At first, he'd refused to talk, but after a couple hours alone with Scarlet, he'd suddenly loosened his tongue-after she'd loosened a few teeth. The man, Maksym, had given them an email address to reach his cousin, who was still working for the gun runner and could possibly be bribed into giving up a list of meeting places. After a few brief exchanges, a meeting was agreed upon and so, Clint and Penelope had headed into the Mojave Desert to the coordinates they were given. More static in his ear had Clint swearing under his breath.
    "I think we should leave," Penelope suggested, shading her eyes to look up at Clint. The wind whipped around them, snatching pieces of her hair from her braid to tangle around her face. "I'm pretty sure we were stood up." Clint sighed heavily, scratching at the back of his head.
    "Yeah," he agreed slowly. "This was definitely a bus-"
    "Clint! Do you copy? We intercepted a phone call from Maksym! It's a set-up! You need to get out of-" static claimed the rest of James's panicked voice, but Clint was already moving. He grabbed Penelope by her shirt, hand fisting tightly in the cotton material, and took off running, shoving her in front of him.
    "Clint, what the hell are you-"
    "BOOM!" Vaughn shouted.
    Together, Jem and Luxe jumped, reacting to the force of the 'explosion' which would be added in post production. They fell, landing on the black padded mat laid out on the ground before them, just out of camera frame. Luxe grunted as Jem landed half on top of her.
    "Sorry," he grunted. "You okay?"
    "I didn't break my ribs, if that's what you're asking," Luxe replied dryly, lifting her head up to look back over her shoulder at him. He grinned toothily at her, tongue between his teeth. Luxe tried not to focus on how his smile was slightly crooked, the left side of his bottom lip not quite as drawn as the right side. She shifted her gaze from his mouth to his eyes.
    "Okay, take a small break, guys!" Vaughn called, catching Luxe's attention and she turned her head to watch him as he sauntered over to where Mark stood looking into the screen of a laptop, going over the scene they had shot. She blinked as a bead of sweat rolled into her eye, stinging slightly. Ugh, she hated the desert. She sighed heavily, or wanted to; it was hard to draw in enough breath for an annoyed sigh with Jem's weight settled on her.
    "That probably means you can get off me now," Luxe said, glancing back over at Jem.
    "Don't like being on bottom?" He teased, bracing his weight on his hands and pushing up off of her. Luxe made a show of taking a deep breath of air once he raised up, hoping her blush went unnoticed.
    "No, but I think you might need to lay off the cheeseburgers and Whiskey neats. You're fucking heavy." She rolled herself over before sitting up and rolling her shoulders, trying to loosen her muscles. She gingerly scraped some sand from the corner of her eyes with her pinky nails. They were shooting on location this week, in the actual Mojave Dessert, and Luxe realized quickly that she was definitely not fond of the desert. She hated the heat during the day, the chill of the night, the cloudless sky that made her feel like she was drowning if she stared to long, the wind that felt like a hair dryer set on its highest heat setting, and the sand. She hated the sand the most. The skin on her face, and neck, and arms felt raw, like she'd scrubbed just a little to hard with some kind of super exfoliant.
    "Whiskey has less calories than beer," Jem pointed out breezily, offering a hand to help Luxe to her feet. Luxe stared at his hand for a moment, before softly placing her own in it. His larger hand closed around hers firmly, before pulling her up. Luxe could feel the heat on her face that absolutely nothing to do with the sun glaring down on her, and nervously tucked some stray stands of hair behind her ears. Things had been...different since her breakdown in front of Jem and Beck. They still teased her, constantly, but their barbs were no longer cutting and derisive. They'd also began asking if she wanted to join them for a smoke break, which she accepted-much to Gigi's displeasure.
    She was supposed to have quit weeks ago. But Luxe kept finding more excuses to buy another box. The two weeks she'd spent looking for a new apartment. The week she'd had to wait to see if she was approved for the apartment she'd found. The week it took her to move in. The stress of doing on location shoots for an entire month. It was now nearing the end of September and Luxe was beginning to suspect she would need to admit to herself that maybe the reason she hadn't quit smoking was because it gave her an excuse to hang out with Jem and Beck.
    "Luxe, that looked great!" Gigi trilled, walking over to where she stood. She held a bottle of water in her hand. Luxe smiled at her warmly.
    "Thanks," she sighed. "Hopefully, Mark and Vaughn won't need to many reshoots. I'm so ready to sit in some shade for a while." Gigi held out the water bottle to her and Luxe gratefully took it, twisting the cap off and lifting it to her lips for a drink.
    "So, you and Jem still seem to be getting along well," Gigi observed quietly, casting her eyes over to where Jem stood talking with Beck a stone's throw away. "He certainly took his time getting off of you." Luxe felt her throat constrict around the cool water and she sputtered and coughed in an embarrassing spectacle of losing her cool.
    "Better watch that gag reflex!" Beck called out, laughing. Luxe flipped him off, still coughing. She turned incredulous eyes at her best friend.
    "What cough cough do you mean? cough," she choked out, hoping to god Jem and Beck hadn't been paying attention to what Gigi had said. Gigi shrugged, shading her eyes.
    "I was just saying that it took him a while to get up after Vaughn called cut."
    "Hey, y'know, Gigi has a point, Jem," Beck interjected and Luxe wished the ground would open up beneath her and swallow her up. She glared at Gigi accusingly. "You really seemed to be enjoying yourself while you two were rolling on the ground."
    "Okay, first of all, there was no rolling," Luxe interrupted, pointing her finger at Beck. He grinned at her in a way that had made her stomach flip and her breath catch in her lungs.
    "And second, Luxe obviously doesn't like being on bottom," Jem added breezily, a cheeky smirk on his face. Luxe felt her cheeks flame again. It must have been noticeable, because Beck's grin sharpened as he stared at her. Damn her pale complexion.
    "You have no idea whether I like being on bottom or top. So keep daydreaming, Jem!" She shot back.
    "Are you giving me permission, or was that an order?" Jem's face was neutral, but his gaze on Luxe's face was heavy; she could feel the weight of it, especially when it drifted from her face to her body. She shivered despite the heat. His crooked smile returned.
    "Hey, what-don't I get permission too?" Beck asked, feigning hurt. Luxe looked at him before rolling her eyes.
    "I already know you do it anyways, you perv," she muttered. "I'm gonna go find some shade. It's too hot out here."
    "Jem! Luxe!" Vaughn called, haulting Luxe mid-step, as he trudged over to where his chair was. "I wanna reshoot the last part of the scene. Mark doesn't like the angle we filmed of your fall." Luxe groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose and handing the bottle of water back to Gigi.
    "Come on, Luxe," Jem called. "Vaugh wants us to fall for each other again." Luxe cast her eyes skyward.
    "Jesus be a rain cloud," she muttered.
    "Tell Jesus to be a hot babe with a cold beer," Beck's voice taunted her as she dragged herself back to her mark.
    The next two hours were a grueling jumble of running and jumping and falling and falling and falling, over and over with Jem. She was bruised and sore and so very tired, and much more acquainted with the feeling of Jem's body weight pressing down on her than she ever imagined she would be. But, as the sun neared the western horizon, Mark decided that they finally had the shots that they wanted, and Luxe had decided that she wanted to fill her tub with ice cubes and just clamber into it and never leave.
    "Still okay?" Jem asked, nudging her shoulder as they walked towards the spot everyone had parked their cars. His voice, and his weighted gaze on her face, had her stomach flipping again. She'd caught several glances like that from him in these last few weeks and it was getting hard to ignore how much they affected her. She found herself wondering, on far too many occasions, if he would look at her that way as he climbed over her, pinning her down on any available flat surface...Luxe cleared her throat, and her mind of those wandering thoughts, and nodded, the corner of her mouth lifting in some semblance of a smile. "You riding with Gigi?" Luxe turned her head to look at him, wondering why he would ask that when he had watched her haul herself out of Gigi's car at 6 am that morning.
    "Um, yeah..." she finally replied, unable to force her brain into thinking of anything else to say. Jem nodded, hands in the pocket of his black jeans.
    "See you tomorrow," he told her, veering from her side to where his truck was, Beck already leaning against the passenger door. He inclined his head when he saw Luxe glance over at him, that razor edged smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
    "You gonna pass out before we even hit the highway?" Gigi's voice asked at her side, startling her. Luxe looked over at her, huffing her breath.
    "I'll probably pass out the second the AC turns on," Luxe chuckled. Gigi's car chirped a greeting as it unlocked and Luxe opened the passenger door, plunking her self down into the seat with a groan. God, she was so tired. She looked over as the other door opened and Gigi sat down in a much more dignified manner. As she leaned her head back against the headrest, Luxe could already feel her eyelids drooping. She let them fall shut just as the engine purred to life. She was asleep before Gigi even shifted the car into drive.

    Luxe blinked her eyes as the sound of some strange keening bird came from the other room. She hated it. The sound of it set her teeth on edge, made her feel like her mind would cave in. It made her want to jam her fingers into her ears, far enough to burst her eardrums. She stood up from the faded yellow couch, needing to get herself as far away from that bird as possible. Her dress was starchy, the stiffness of the black fabric grating against her skin. Luxe turned to her left, heading for the staircase.     She stared at the shoes on her feet, hating the way they pinched her toes. It couldn't be helped, there hadn't been time for her to get new ones before-Luxe tripped, her toe catching on the lip of the stair and she felt herself pitch forward. She reached her hands out to catch herself....
    Luxe threw open the front door, flinging her backpack off and toeing off her sneakers as she ran into the kitchen.
    "Mom! Mom!" She crowed excitedly. "Mom, I got it! I got the part! I'm going to be Liesle! Mom!" She rounded the corner, bursting around the table. She stopped. There was paint on the floor, Luxe's socked toe slipped in a puddle. "Mom?" She looked to where her mother sat at the table, leaned forward, head cradled in her arms in a thick puddle of paint. The paint was dripping from the Formica table top. "Mom?" Luxe took another step forward. Her foot slipped in the paint, pitching herself forward. Her hands flew out in front of her, slapping on the table to catch herself. She blinked in shock as the thick, red liquid splattered onto her face. Somewhere in the other room, the bird wailed again, sobbing...sobbing...

    "Luxe!" Gigi's voice slammed Luxe back into the waking world, her eyes shooting open. She turned her head to see that she was still in the car. She looked back at Gigi, who kept looking back and forth between her and the road. "The dream, again?" Luxe blinked, bringing her hands up to scrub her face and wipe the wetness from her cheeks.
    "I'm okay," Luxe whispered, taking a deep breath and shoving the last tendrils of her dream away. "It's just been a really stressful few months. That's probably why I had it." Gigi narrowed her eyes and gave Luxe the look she always have her when she knew Luxe was avoiding a subject. Luxe said nothing, scrubbing her hands over her face again. There was no reason to talk about shit that happened in the past anyway. Luxe wasn't that person anymore. That wasn't her life anymore. She never wanted to think about it ever again.