Title: Another Day, Another Disaster
Featuring: Roxy Phoenix
Date: 6/14/11
Location: Rev 247

9 AM… Eyes open. Why? How the hell? Awake? At this hour? Jesus Christ, the clock was not lying… she was awake before 3 in the afternoon. Oh God, this can’t be fucking happening. Since living at Rayne Manor, Roxy Phoenix had grown accustomed to late hours to bed and late hours to rise. That was her routine until Ty had recently departed. Now, she couldn’t sleep past 10 o’clock. It was a fucking nightmare. She was not even 27, and she had the damn body clock of a 97-year old.

Her brown eyes fell on her exquisite nude frame… in Tyler’s bed �" in Tyler’s room. It took her a second to look around and notice that she was in his room. Her gaze caught the sight at the entrance of the room… the door that was taken off its hinges so she could bust in. Hmm, she didn’t remember entering that way.

Her palm grazed the cheek of her bedmate, and she curled back the brown tendrils that were once covering his handsome face. Yep, certainly not Ty… in Ty’s bed with her. He was still pretty fucking hot. She lifted the sheets to regard the rest of her companion’s physique. Broad shoulders leading to a smooth bubble butt. Mmm, she loved a man with a little extra to hold onto.

Her glance averted back to his handsome face. She had to do a double take. At first, she could have sworn it was Jason lying in bed, but no, just his doppelganger. If she’d not adjusted her morning vision seconds prior, she would’ve been damn positive that it was Jason… Shit, she must’ve been really, really drunk. She couldn’t help that she had such a weakness for attractive men, but she would slit her own throat before she went to bed with Jason again. Of course, if it had been Jason, she would’ve blown this poor innocent man’s brains would’ve been plastered against the wall eight feet away.

With an exasperated sigh, Roxy attempted to shift without disturbing her partner. But it was more difficult than she had initially expected, as she was ten shades of sore. She felt as though she had just dismounted a horse that she had been riding for a week.

“Fuck,” she cursed under her breath. No sudden or swift movements.

The frustration was a combination of pain and disappointment that she could not remember what was most likely the best sex she had probably had in a long time.

Her hand met the edge of the walnut nightstand to give her assistance as she pushed herself up. Her pinky knocked a bottle. Ah, so she found the dirty culprit to blame for her forgotten antics �" Blueberry Stolichnaya Vodka. Empty, as usual.

‘Boy, we Eastern Europeans certainly know how to have a blast… and forget it the next second.’ She hummed to herself.

With all of the strength she was able to muster, she pushed herself up. Once on her feet, she staggered for a second, but she caught her balance on the door leading into the master bath.

Watching her accomplice change his position in bed, she bit her lip. She didn’t like winding up in Ty’s bed. It seemed to cheapen the memories that she’d had in that bed. She couldn’t beat herself up about it though �" Ty wasn’t here to interfere. As far as things were concerned, she could do whomever wherever and on whatever she wanted. She could have very well usurped this room as hers. After all, her room only had a Queen Size bed… not a California King.

But perhaps that was part of the reason that she awoke so early. Her bed was much comfier, whereas Ty preferred his beds firm. Roxy wanted to be enveloped into her bed, similar to resting on a marshmallow.

Of course, if she hadn’t drunk the entire bottle, she probably would’ve woken up on the pool table with this stud’s head buried in her crotch. Hell, she may have woken up to an Irish breakfast �" oral sex and a nice swig of whiskey.

But she didn’t. She was sorely disappointed not to be awoken to a furious flicker of a tongue in her nether regions… eh, there were other opportunities to be had for that pleasure.

Sighing, Roxy wrapped herself in her silk navy robe lined with black lace trim. It hardly did much to insulate or to deflect the cold air from hitting her svelte naked curves. Even though her nipples perked up at the start of the air condition regulating itself, it was far better than traipsing about without it. Not that she was above that, but this early in the morning, it was fucking cold. Leave the nudity for when her body heat had returned.

Out the broken door, shit… she’d have to replace that, and down the stairs… how the fuck? Clothing dangled from each protruding object, in an attempt to conceal two posts had been kicked out from the railing that lined the stairs.

She began a mental checklist of shit that she would have to replace… when she finally gave a shit. Most of the damaged pieces from her observations were pieces of furniture, which Tyler could easily replace with no qualms.

But she did notice that one of his customized glass light sabers once mounted on the wall was shattered on the floor next to a stash of books strewn about and a torn rug. She remembered him mentioning how much those meant to him when she was blowing him during one of those movies �" whichever one of the seven or eight (like she fucking cared). The only bit she recalled was the explosion in her mouth at the same time that Samuel L. Jackson exclaimed, “He’s too dangerous to be left alive!”

Her attention narrowed in on Alfred busying about the kitchen and preparing breakfast. He turned to greet her, “Good morning, Miss Petrova.”

“Alfred, Petrova is my slave name. Call me Roxy.”

That response took him aback, but he slightly chuckled when he saw her eyebrow furrow in disbelief.

“Call me whatever the shit you want. ‘Fuckbunny’ was always Tyler’s favorite.” She reflected.

“I think Roxy will do.” He nodded.

It was hard to decipher Alfred’s honest thoughts especially with her most recent escapade. Roxy could never determine whether he was thinking, ‘You are a ripe trollop’ or ‘You sexy little minx. Get you some!’ Like the words ‘Get you some’ ever entered Alfred’s consciousness, but it was worth a laugh.

“Will your guest be dining with you?” He inquired.

Roxy lifted herself to sit on the counter. She crossed her feet to conceal her naughty bits from being on display. If anyone else had been buzzing around the mansion, then there was no need to show any humility, but Alfred deserved some decency. He was a distinguished gentleman, after all.

“Shall I prepare another omelet?” He asked again.

His eyes met hers as she smirked. That was his answer. Rather than a simple ‘no,’ that was a ‘hell no.’

While shrugging, he returned any surplus of breakfast items to the fridge rather than tossing them into the skillet to complement hers. At the point in her current recovery, there was nothing more delicious looking than that omelet.

Alfred was one of the best damn cooks ever. Her other favorite was Jiro Kobayashi, Jason’s personal sushi chef. He was at her beck and call for personalized sushi rolls. She missed Jiro, but she preferred the company of Alfred much better �" especially because English was his native language.

Roxy surveyed his pleasant demeanor as he flipped the egg in the pan. There never seemed to be anything that ruffled his feathers… yet Roxy was positive that he had an invoice compiled of all the things that she’d damaged thus far. She never pegged him as the type to gossip, but sure, he still needed to do his job. Maybe she could give him a raise to forget all the shit that went amiss during Tyler Rayne’s hiatus.

“Mmm. Mornin’, babe, what’s for breakfast?” A deep voice stole Roxy’s attention.

Hmm. How tactful did she need to be? Let’s see, ‘Get the fuck out’… maybe adding a ‘please’ at the end of it would sound a bit more delicate.

Roxy noticed that her guest had been prepared to greet both her and Alfred, as he had retrieved his boxers from a lamp shade and returned them to his bottom. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, as though he had stumbled upon a conversation that involved him.

“Yo, uh, Albert, right?” He sniffed the air and continued, “What you got over there?”

Alfred cast a glance to Roxy, waiting for her to deliberate his response. Roxy did nothing, except sandwich a cigarette in between her soft red lips. Reflexively, Alfred strikes the lighter to illuminate the end of the butt.

“Ooh, can I have one of those?”

The man approached Roxy in eager pursuit of his own cigarette to burn. She did not answer him, yet a smooth ring of smoke billowed from her lips into his face. He coughed with each inhale, and he staggered back to catch his breath.

“I guess that means I won’t be getting a kiss this morning,” He laughed.

Roxy playfully snickered with her finger curled seductively as she scooted off of the countertop. He followed her down through the foyer to see what wicked intentions she had in store. Apparently, her recent desires included chucking his belongings out the front door. He charged after his clothing and accessories that were now in the driveway but not before tripping on the door threshold.

“Wait! Wait! Roxy!”

That was the last audible groan as she slammed the door shut.

“Well, Miss Roxy, you took care of him,” Alfred remarked.

“Yeah, I probably could have told him something to the effect of, ‘Good morning, get the fuck out,’ but I’d rather conserve my voice for more important matters,” Roxy sighed.

He nodded and began to prepare his next task �" filtering a fresh pot of coffee. He gestured to the coffeemaker, inquiring if Roxy wanted a cup.

“I may need that whole pot of coffee to myself,” she rubbed her temples.

Wistfully, she inhaled the combined scent of egg whites, mushrooms, spinach, bacon, and cheese. It would taste so delicious, and she prayed to God that it would not come back up in the toilet hours later. At the present moment, nothing mattered other than eating that delicious feast.

Of course, fate would never allow her to enjoy such a deserved meal. In the same second that she had retrieved her fork, the doorbell rang. The poor guy probably needed a cab ride, but Roxy didn’t care. He could wait outside for the public transportation to take him home. Lord knows those cars had traveled that route before as Tyler had sent more than his fair share of girls home for the walk of shame.

Again. The doorbell. And again. Roxy tried to ignore it. She regarded Alfred as he held his hands in defeat.

“By all means, I am not stupid. He would certainly overpower me.”

Alfred… such a chickenshit. Roxy sighed, dropping her fork on the table in defeat. She could’ve armed herself with some ammunition and scared the living daylights of this fucker, but he wasn’t worth it. Roxy gathered one of the pool sticks and carried it over her shoulder. This weapon was much more suitable.

Ding dong. Ding dong. Roxy kicked open the door, the stick at her shoulder ready to target. Nothing. No one. She surveyed the area.

Nothing. No one. Who was ringing that damn doorbell? Where did that her most recent bed partner go? Had he already left? No way.

Roxy shook her head in skepticism, and she continued her journey back to the kitchen. In the distance, she heard shuffling about the pool table. It could have been Alfred dusting or reading the rack where Roxy had stolen the pool stick.

As concealed as Rayne Manor was, there was no way that punk had gained entry other than through the front door. He must’ve left. There were few people who knew how to break into the mansion �" Tyler Rayne, herself, and… now, the man bent over the pool table, his hand curled around a cue stick ready to break the rack of balls.

Roxy had to defend herself from his intruder. She equipped herself with the only weapon at her person, this cue stick. She rose it above her head and brought her grasp down to clock this stranger in the head… it would’ve been perfect, if he hadn’t caught the stick behind his back before it connected with his body.

“You hesitated,” he said.

She recognized the voice. Of course, the only other person who would have been able to break into Rayne Manor would have been the person who taught her how to… her brother Alexei.

He swung around, and the beams of exterior sunlight shined onto his handsome face. Bits of the natural lights hit the tips of his extremely short brown hair.

“I didn’t hesitate.” Roxy defended herself, “I was testing you.”

“Sure,” he nodded.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She smirked, “You’re good, but not that good.”

He changed the subject just as swiftly, “I wasn’t aware I would need to do some waste management when I got here, but I’ll send you the bill in the mail.”

Her eyebrow perked in confusion, prodding that he’d continue with that statement.

“Thought it was your boy toy, but it wasn’t.”

“Tell me you didn’t leave the body out there.” Roxy sighed with a frustrated roll of her eyes. The last thing she needed to deal with this morning was removing a dead body.

He snarled in response. “You know I clean up my tracks.”

“I didn’t imply that you were sloppy.” She crossed her arms, “It’s just that regular trash pickup is rare in the middle of nowhere.”

“I have my own trash pickup,” He replied.

Roxy wanted nothing more than to seize her brother in a loving embrace. It had been ages since she’d seen him in person. But they didn’t hug. Nothing �" the upbringing they were engrained in never allowed for such demonstrations of emotions. They were terrified to ever do anything to disrupt the dysfunctional balance.

“Not that it isn’t fantastic to see you, Alexei, but what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh, Kalinka,” he fondly addressed her by her childhood nickname, ‘Ladybug.’ It had been ages since anyone had called her that �" it brought back some of the few joyful times that she often tried to repress.

A small crack of a smile curled at her lips. “Yes?”

“Wish there was an easy way to say this, but…” He began.

Roxy held out her hands, inviting him to continue. The suspense was killing her.

“So, you told me that shibaniak was in Switzerland?” He enjoyed calling Jason a motherfucker any chance he got. He continued, “Hiding in the mountains with sherpas? Or whatever the fuck?”

“That’s what I was told by his father,” she divulged. “I have no reason to believe he lied.”

Roxy recalled each nail she had ripped from Warren Van Horten’s fingers and every hair that she had plucked from his thick head. That was only the first round of torture… after two hours, Warren finally caved to reveal Jason’s current hiding place.

“He did,” he stated, returning the pool cue to the table and leaning against the edge of the table.

Well, she had spared Warren’s life in that breath, but now that she was aware of how foolish she had been to believe that he would tell her the truth of Jason’s whereabouts, she would now have to make him pay. The torture wasn’t enough �" only in his death could she achieve true satisfaction. She sucked on her lip, contemplating the various ways to slaughter that lying piece of shit.

“Don’t,” he interrupted her wicked thoughts before they got too vivid. “He’s not worth it. I can take care of him.”

Roxy cleared her throat, dismissing any immediate thoughts of killing Warren Van Horten, “Great, so Jason’s not in Switzerland. Guess I’m back to square one.”

Alexei’s glance turned serious. He exhaled, “Not quite.”

“No?”

“I’ve found him.”

Those words burned into her soul. They lit a fire within her that had been dormant since she had been dumped in that desert and vowed to seek retribution.

“Found him?” She repeated. This was the moment. “Alexei, I can’t thank�"“

“Rox, it’s not what you think.”

Alexei retrieved a letter out of his vest pocket. He tossed it across the table for Roxy to examine it. She held the letter in her hands �" it appeared to be an unopened bank statement, addressed to a Jason Poppadopolous.

“Wow, that simple? He’s going by his father’s last name?” She scoffed and angrily chucked the letter at the pool table. “Are you fucking kidding me? This is it?”

His expression didn’t fetter. He extended the letter once again for her to look at it. Alexei flicked his tongue, “Did you bother to look at the address?”

No, she hadn’t. She was too furious to see that all he had discovered was that Jason was going by his father’s birth surname.

Her eyes returned to the mailing address on the label. Her heart stopped. Jason certainly knew the one place she would never go… the one place she would never look for him.

This place hit closer home… it was her home.
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