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justjessame · 1 year

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Falling for a Max

Dinner with Grandmother and Maxen was exactly as I expected - dull as dishwater with a heavy dose of fawning from both sides about how wonderful both of them were, to one another. I wasn’t entirely sure why I had to be present, other than witnessing the spectacle and chewing, I didn’t have much to offer - and there were a few shows that I was behind on, and my “to read” pile of books was growing.

“Maxima,” hearing my name, I looked up to see my brother’s smirk growing and my Grandmother looking exasperated. “Am I interrupting some grand internal thought about curing cancer?” Nice, Grandmother, nice. “I didn’t think so.” Did they always have matching smirks or was I just imagining it? “Now that you’ve rejoined us at the table, perhaps you could join us in the conversation as well?”

Join them, alright. “Absolutely, Grandmother.” Pasting a smile on my face, and glancing down at my plate to be certain I was completely through with the meal that had been placed before me, I looked back up at the pair of them. “It really is such an honor that you’ve chosen to grace us with your obscenely tanned visage, and I’d be inconsiderate if I didn’t mention not completely healed, but most definitely well earned beaten face.” Smiling coming out in full and dare I say real bloom now that they were both having issues holding tight to their own smugness, I went on, “And Grandmother you’ve truly outdone yourself with dinner. I’m sure preparing the list of what you wanted the staff to prepare took a full ten minutes of your packed to the gills day of -” I squinted as I considered just what it was that she did while I went off to the family business and put out fires in the human resources department all day. “Well I’m sure it’ll come to me. Now that I’m finished, please don’t try to tempt me with Max’s favorite dessert,” I stood up and started my retreat, but not before one last parting shot. “Oh and Max?” He wasn’t smirking, but he was studying me like he was considering making our faces match a little better - “lock my bedroom door” definitely added to my mental list - “Give me the name and number of whoever gave you those bruises would you? I want to send them a gift.”

“And there were no family photos in the office?” Clay was going over Jensen’s contact with Maxima Alexander again - alright he was going over it for the fifth time, but it felt wrong to him. They were twins, fraternal sure, but didn’t all twins have some sort of connection?

“None,” the younger man was squinting behind his glasses trying to recreate what he’d seen in the office. “Wait, no, there was one.” He nodded and Clay thought that he’d known it, there had to be something. “It was of a really old man, and I’d asked who it was, and she smiled and said her grandfather.”

Damn it, he was dead too. The founder of the company she worked for, would probably own one day if she was in the line of succession, but definitely not the link they were looking for - fuck.

“There were no other pictures in the office?” Clay was grasping at straws at this point, he wanted, no he needed something that proved that this entire trip wasn’t a fool’s errand - again. It seemed like since that first face-to-fist with Max was lightning in a bottle, and everything after was just fucking nothing - all of Aisha’s connections and tips lead them on wild ass chases that had them coming ever closer to that end dance she promised was coming over the death he’d dealt her father, but damn if it was not leading them were they all wanted - to Max.

Jensen sighed and Clay perked up. “There were other pictures -” seeing his fearless and let’s be frank, scary as hell face show the signs that he’d been holding out on intel that was important to the mission, he sat up straighter and explained how inconsequential they were, “pictures of her and her friends. Maybe a boyfriend?”

He shrugged, shoulders sagging at the failure of his ability to dig further into Max’s sister’s life while he was in her office, and ohh boy had he wanted to dig harder and deeper into any part of her life, sister of the devil himself or not, she was an eyeful. “All I know is that the pictures were scattered and she looked way more relaxed in them and happier than she did trapped behind the desk wearing those heels and suit - even if she does rock the fuck out of both of them.” His eyes closed at the memory of how well she wore both of them, even if she was petite as hell, she managed to be both confident, intimidating, and welcoming - it was weird as hell after meeting Max.

It was Clay’s turn to sigh. Well shit, that didn’t help at all. “So we have Max, the sister, and grandma?” He slumped in his chair and felt the urge to throw something. “What’s the likelihood it’s the grandma?”

I made sure to lock my bedroom door, tossing off the outfit I’d been forced to redress in for a dinner I hadn’t wanted to participate in, I was tugging the pins holding up my hair when I heard the tell-tale notification sound warning me that I was being paged to a video call on my computer. Before I could start to curse anyone working late at the office, my brain engaged and realized the tone wasn’t a work one, but a personal one - grinning like a goofball I rushed to the desk situated in the office area of my suite and checked to be sure my t-shirt was covering my pertinent parts before hitting the answer button.

Two of my favorite faces popped up and then we were joined by the third - always late- one.

The greetings rang out as if we didn’t do this almost weekly, and I would have laughed, but I was still feeling the effects of dinner - and it was noticed.

“Where is your glass?” I’d completely forgotten that we were going to have our video chat and so I’d completely forgotten to grab a drink, but I was shocked that Maxwell had one in her hand - it must have been obvious on my traitorous face because she rolled her eyes and her husband - and my best friend since before we were potty trained came to the rescue.

“I found the best recipe for mock-tinis that has ever been devised,” Ezra swore, and I shook my head at his widening grin, and I knew his hand was cradling Maxi’s ever growing baby bump. “Do you honestly think we’d be down with prenatal alcohol consumption?” I’d forever envy his ability to arch his eyebrow the way only he seemed capable.

Cassie cleared her throat and earned an eye-roll from Maxi, “you’re deflecting, Mimi,” that got her a matching one from me. “Where’s your drinky-poo?” She raised her own glassful of what looked like champagne and I was tempted to do the time-difference mathematics to see just what time it was in whatever part of the world she was at this particular point in time - “Never you mind the time, another deflection won’t make us forget that you definitely forgot our togetherness time.” She pushed out her lower lip into a dramatic pout and I finally had to laugh - she was too ridiculous, but then again she had been since the first time we met in grade school.

“You’re right,” the sigh slipped out and Ezra’s eyes narrowed, he knew me like he knew the back of his hand. “Sorry, I was -”

“When did he get back?” Seriously, how did he know? “Clearly your evil twin is back in the family fold, not only did you forget the drink, but you’re wearing the shirt.” I glanced down and another sigh slipped out. Shit. I was. How did I not notice pulling it out? “So, how long?”

Groaning, I sat back in the chair, and told them what little I knew - feeling marginally better as I let the verbal diarrhea release from deep within me. “And then I got up from the table and asked him to give me the name and number of the guy who gave him the bruises because I wanted to send him a gift.” I shrugged and Ezra broke, laughing like he couldn’t hold back any longer - “I locked the bedroom door, changed out of my dinner clothes, and threw on what I thought was the first crap I grabbed,” my gaze me Ezra’s and we shared a knowing look, “that’s when you guys started ringing in -” another shrug.

“Wait,” Cassie was wide-eyed and I waited for her to gather her thoughts while she held up one finger and took a long drink from her champagne flute. “You asked Maxen for the number of the guy who beat his ass bad enough to leave him still bruised and battered even now when he shows up on Grandma’s doorstep, and that’s after you also basically told her that she sits on her pompous ass and does nothing other than write up the menu and -” she couldn’t go on, a snort slipped out and then she was sounding less ladylike than she’d ever pretended to be in her life.

“Damn, Mimi, I didn’t think you had it in you,” Maxwell was looking at me like she might be impressed. “After all these years of just taking all the crap that those two have handed you like it was candy during Trick or Treat, you finally took a bite out of them -” So much for a compliment, but then again, that was Max - and she was pregnant.

Ezra was still studying me, he was the one who’d known me the longest. The one who knew both Maxen and me, but he was the one who had stood by me, not Maxen. It was his shirt I was wearing, the other two had no idea, none - not even his wife - who he met thanks to me.

“You make sure the door is locked, that the balcony and patio doors are locked.” He wasn’t listening to the other women as they tittered, they clearly were of no concern at the moment. “You know that he knows how to pick locks and he knows that house as well as you do.” I nodded, the balcony was already on lockdown, I wasn’t as keen on using it during the cooler nights and was happy Maxen hadn’t chosen the warmer months to pop up.

Maxwell was looking back and forth between us, even through the computer camera I could tell she was trying to see what she was missing. “You two are acting like Maxen is going to do something crazy like -”

“Like stuff her in a trunk and hide the key?” Ezra hissed, clearly remembering the day a game of Hide and Seek went off the rails in a way that the two of us would never forget.

“The next question,” Pooch was staring at the folders that held what he knew was limited intel on Maxima - Max’s twin sister. “How do we get close enough to figure out what our next move is?”

Clay was wondering pretty much the same damn thing.

#the losers (2010)#Franklin Clay x OFC #alternative universe #eventual smut

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