Chapter Text
“God. Look at them. It’s just too much…they belong together, why can’t Laura see it?” Alex whispers loudly in Maggie’s ear. She’s just so sad. It’s almost amusing and for a moment Maggie is annoyed that she can no longer celebrate this woman’s faltering.
Maggie wonders about that first part, and dismisses the second. Why on earth is Alexandra Levy so invested in Laura Peterson and Bradley Jackson’s constantly failing romance?
Alexandra claims Bradley, of course, but Maggie isn’t foolish enough to plant stakes in or around Laura. It is a respectful, adult friendship, what she and Laura have carved out. Bradley and Alex, on the other hand, behave like middle-school besties who hate each other’s parents and share the angry things they write in their diaries about boyfriends (and girlfriends) who have done them harm.
But as Laura practically shouts (in agony though it may look to others who know her less like mere anger) in Bradley’s tear-streaked face, and Bradley seems to plead—for what, who knows—the enormity of their losses reverberate.
Beside her, Alex Levy stands close, as though Maggie is some source of warmth in a tumultuous storm.
“Go,” Maggie says quietly, “get them into a room—anything to get this nonsense sorted.” And Alex is gone just as quickly as the words escape Maggie’s lips, leaving a surprising coolness in her wake. She watches, of course, as Alex steers Laura and Bradley with stern words and a firm grip, no doubt lecturing them on things she knows nothing about.
For all of her goddamn cageyness about some rather famous men, Alex has had few relationships to inspire a surprisingly optimistic outlook about love. Even the way she hosts parties feels oddly romantic—the lighting, the music, the intimate ways with which she greets each guest.
And goddammit, if the host is now off playing cupid while the caterers wreak havoc on her kitchen.
“Excuse me,” Maggie glides over to the marble-covered island and calmly instructs a frazzled, pasty man to stop shouting at his employees and perhaps organize a quick cleanup. “Glasses are piling up and that cheese platter is growing weepy beneath hot lights, much like my friends,” she winks at him and he rolls his eyes. The next words out of her mouth are, “oh dear,” and she sips her champagne as Alex returns to her side and absolutely sets him on fire with her own gaze.
After righting the ship, Alex apologies to her—not necessary—and offers to uncork a 2012 Cab Sav which Maggie is sure must be worth almost a thousand dollars. Her answer is obviously, “yes, please,” and that’s how she ends up debriefing with Alex outside on the balcony while Laura and Bradley continue their absurd fight and then fuck against the window because they are nitwits.
They’d gone outside through the end of the balcony that is just off the main living room, but then gone all the way down to the bedroom end of things to sit. Alex fumes and laughs at the same time and chatters on, “for fuck’s sake, I did my job too well. Maggie, tell me what you think about the wine and let’s drag these fucking chairs further to the edge of oblivion so I can stop hearing my best friend screaming Laura’s name…”
Maggie laughs at Alex’s witty ramblings, distracting as they are, and does as told. A phone, a speaker outside, and the wine, all distract them. Inside, the caterers are now the finishing up.
“Are you well?” Maggie had intended on asking, how are you,’ but instead, worry creeps into her voice as she lays a palm warmly over Alex’s forearm.
She earns a surprised and intense look from those crystal blue eyes. “I’m fine.” Alex says with a nervous and then genuine smile. “My back is better, if that’s what you’re asking.” She laughs at her own joke and sips her wine.
Gosh, to be in Alex Levy’s orbit—it’s not something Maggie takes for granted. She’d nearly burned this bridge to a crisp, as she does so many bridges. Instead, they’re sharing absurdly delicious and expensive wine, and they have friends in common who are inside just debauching themselves. Despite the music, Maggie hears the words, “harder, Laura…” and reaches for Alex’s phone to turn the sound up.
Their hands tangle together as they fight over the phone. “Seriously, I’m not listening to that,” Alex fumes as Maggie laughs at her again. “Don’t laugh at me,” she adds, pouting adorably.
“Oh hush, they’re getting back together. Laura doesn’t hate-fuck her exes, she cuts them loose and never, ever sees them again. Be happy.” Maggie presses closer, crossing her legs so they point toward Alexandra’s own toned and tanned and really rather shapely limbs.
Well. New thoughts, then.
Maggie has fucked most of her friends, that much is true. She’s even fucked Laura, though Bradley isn’t aware of that fact, yet, and also doesn’t know that it had been a rather intense affair.
“Why…” Alex scowls at her. “Honestly, why do you smell so good?”
“It angers you that I smell good?” Maggie smirks and pulls back, just an inch, just to make the other woman follow her. She doesn’t want to overwhelm her younger colleague. Quite the opposite. Rather suddenly, in fact.
“You smell like expensive perfume. Did someone make that for you?” Alex smiles now, bemusedly, as Maggie shrugs, nods, and then lets herself stare openly at the open v-neck of Alex’s black dress.
“It is a scent that was made just for me, yes.” Maggie wonders briefly whether Alex likes her breasts played with. That thought is like a shock to her system and she turns back to look at the water, ignoring the heat that flows between her thighs. This is absurd, and not even a remote possibility. She has to calm down. Where on earth has her mind gone? She blames Laura and Bradley and their goddamn pheromones that obviously are just wafting from the fucking bedroom where a shocking silence has overtaken them both.
(If she were inside, she’d hear the bed creaking and slamming against the wall, but she is not.)
Meanwhile, Alex smells like sandalwood and leather and mint and Maggie could just eat her alive. She looks wonderful. Alex has always been beautiful, but she radiates confidence and care now. Maggie credits this odd and dedicated friendship with Bradley.
She clears her throat and regains control, clueing in then to the rambling nonsense Alexandra is on and on about. Something about the merger and something else about how, if she fails, she’ll be so widely mocked.
That last part bothers Maggie. She reaches and touches the bony angles of Alex’s shoulder, sipping her wine and running her thumb up and down exposed, tanned skin. “You’ll be fine,” she murmurs. “You need to have some faith in yourself…”
She removes her hand when they both notice it.
“What is going on with you?” Alex asks, narrowing her eyes. “You’re…why do you feel like this, like…like you’re seducing me. Or like you could seduce me? What the hell, Maggie…” At first she looks haughty, arrogant. But then confusion overtakes. Those crystal eyes focus on her and Maggie’s stomach churns at the vulnerability she sees there.
“No need for panic, I’m just enjoying the view.” Maggie says with a chuckle, turning to look at the water again.