A work in progress

Chapter 2

The flight was boring and Max slept through most of it.

She waltzed through the Arcadia Bay Airport, tired and stiff. She glanced around, looking at the signs that people held up for a sign of her chauffeur.

"Hey." She jumped and whipped around, blinking once before drowning in a hazel sea.

Her mouth felt dry as she stared at the woman in front of her. She was taller than Max by at least a few inches. Her hair was golden rays of sunlight that fell perfectly over small shoulders, framing her perfect and spotless face. Her eyes were hazel, flickering like embers from a fire. Her eyebrows were perfect, arching slightly as Max's eyes found her lips. Perfect in shape, they were stretched in a loose grin. The photographer blushed as her eyes wandered to the woman's chest, shapely and filled. Her stomach was flat and-oh dog. Her shorts, barely long enough to cover her ass, which by the way was nice looking as well even from the front, were ripped showing more skin of her upper thigh. A tattoo of an octopus was poking from the hole, it's tentacles stretching beyond the bounds of the shorts. A few poked from under her shorts but the rest was concealed.Max couldn't help but wondered where it ended. From her too-small shorts, came shapely legs that ended perfectly into a worn pair of converse and on one calf Max could see a dragon tattoo.

All in all, Max found out two things.

One, this woman was a fucking goddess, and two Max was super fucking gay.

A warm bell-chime laugh made her eyes fly up and stare at the strangers face. The girl grinned, "Maxine Caulfield right?" She asked, stretching her left arm out. Max noticed a little star on her wrist. "Names Rachel Dawn Amber, I'm your escort."

Rachel Dawn Amber, dog even her name was ethereal. "Max." she said hoarsely, "Never Maxine."

Rachel lifted a perfect eyebrow, "Alright then, Max it is." She said easily, a smile on her face. "So, shall I grab your bags?"

"Uh-" Max glanced over at where her stuff had been brought out by staff. "There's allot, how are you gonna fit it in your car?" She asked.

Rachel snorted, "You'll see." She walked over to one of the staff members and exchanged a few words before she turned to Max and gestured for her to follow her out.

Readjusting the strap of her bag around her body, Max paused, gazing at Rachel. She was standing in the sunlight and she practically glowed. In a trained, experienced movement, Max pulled out her camera and snapped a picture, the film sliding out immediately. She shook it out of habit and put it into her bag before she sighed and followed Rachel Amber.

The girl was already packing her luggage in... what the fuck?

Max tilted her head, of all things she expected this certainly wasn't it.

The truck was to beat to death and desperately needed new paint. Hell, it was a wonder the thing even ran, it looked like it was found in some junkyard.

She quickly learned that it was, in fact,  found in a junkyard.

"Chloe fixed her up." Rachel said with a grin, "She always was a little grease monkey." Rachel said, admiring the ride as if it was a new Mustang.

Of course, Chloe fixed this thing up. Max thought as she climbed into the truck. It was oozing Chloe, Elvis bobblehead on the dash and ominous messages of you're about to die and this is much bigger than you written crudely in sharpie.. though it was much darker than the Chloe Max remembered it was still Chloe. The messages didn't help ease Max's anxiety.

"How is this even running? It looks like a trainwreck." Max scoffed, her body trembling slightly. From how chilly it was near the coast or from anxiety she couldn't tell. Probably both.