The Price Legacy - Generation One - Chapter Twelve (Part Three)

[pastryqueen]

Part One!

Part Two!




Don loved her freckles.



Since they met, he couldn’t help but stare at them sometimes when she wasn’t paying attention. They were everywhere; he could even see them on her tattoo if he sat close enough. He got a few glimpses of her upper body depending on the top she wore every day. Now, he could stay in bed with her for hours counting them, touching them, tracing paths from one to the other with his mouth, memorizing each unique speck on her skin…



It happened so fast. One minute, they were talking about his relationship problems with Katrina. The next…



Who were they kidding? It was always going to end like this.



When they met, Marci claimed they were nothing alike, that she was trying to get away from people like him.



As it turned out, they were two sides of the same coin.



Both were fueled by self-loathing and loneliness.

Both were afraid of getting hurt — which seemed inevitable in their worlds.

Both insisted they didn't care what anyone thought about them, but the truth is, they cared too much about what other people whispered behind their backs.



She hid so much from him, but he didn’t care. He knew her, better than he knew himself.

And there were times she undressed him with just a few words and shook him to his core.



At the end of the day, they were both just looking for a connection, for someone to see them, for someone to look past all their bullshit and love them anyway.



Was this a mistake?

Maybe. Maybe not.



All he knew was that they wanted each other, and, at that moment…



…it was enough for them.



He went to the bathroom and cleaned himself up.



When he came back to bed, he checked his phone.

There were a few missed text notifications, all from Katrina Caliente.



He was still reading them when he felt the weight of Marci lying on his back.

Don: “Did I wake you up?”

Marci: “Yeah, but it’s fine. Who’re you texting?”

Don: “No one, but Kat sent me a few texts. She’s uh, wondering when I’m coming by.”



Marci: “So…what are you going to do?”

Don: “I haven’t decided yet. I guess I won’t know until I talk to her, right?”

Marci: “Maybe, but…what if you go back and it’s just more of the same, or worse?”

Don: “I thought about that, believe me. It sounds like she wants to give me another chance, but…”

Marci: "Don…forget what Kat wants for a second. What do you want?"



Don: “That’s a loaded question.”

Marci climbed off him and slid in the empty spot next to him.

Marci: “Why, though? Why do you shut down when people ask you what you want to do with your life? It’s a simple question.”

Don: “No, it isn’t. Not for me. I never had the luxury to figure that shit out until I finally left home. Maybe you did. You came here with a plan and now look at you. You have the job you wanted, your hellhole is actually a house now, you got a husband and kids...and you arrived a year later than I did. When I came here, I thought I knew what I wanted. I followed my instincts and took the bull by the horns, no differently than you...but I still fucked things up. And when I do get a good thing going for myself, I feel suffocated. It just feels easier to cut myself off from everything — and everyone. Why go all-in if it’s just going to fall apart, you know?”

Marci: “Don, it’s possible your instincts just sucked back then! Or maybe you just sucked! It happens. It happened to me. You can’t close yourself off from people because you’re scared you’re going to ruin things again. That’s not going to make you happy. Trust me, I’m the queen of pushing people away. Plus, I know you — I know you won’t be able to figure shit out as long as you’re with Katrina.”

Don: “I…I don’t know, Marci. This time it feels different like she actually wants to hear me out and stop pressuring me to do shit on her terms all the time. Maybe the two of us, together...maybe I need that after all. She grounds me.”

Marci: “There’s a ‘but’ at the end of that, isn’t there? Spit it out.”



He shifted over on his side to face her. She closed the distance between them until they were face to face.

Don: “Remember when you told me that I deserved better? That I wasn’t a bad guy?”

Marci: “I do. And I meant it.”

Don: “What if you’re wrong?”



Don: “I’ve never been the man that Kat sees — the man that you claim I am. I hurt people. I make promises that I don’t intend to keep, commitments that I won’t stick to…it feels like I watch myself making the same mistakes, over and over again. I like to think that I can be different, that I can finally figure out what I want, that I can change but—”



Marci: “Then do that, Don. Change.”

Don: “You say that like it’s so simple.”

Marci: “It isn’t. I’ve hurt people, too. I started to like it, people's misery…and that scared me. It would’ve been easier to stay on the course that I was on, make excuses for myself…but I knew it was wrong. I wanted more for myself. I’m not saying I’m perfect, or that I still don’t have my moments where I’m a crazy bitch and test everyone’s nerves, but I work on it every day. You can, too.”

Was it as simple as that? Be different? Change?

Was he capable of that, as she said?



It was a question to shelf for another day, when he could really tackle it. He was more concerned with another question, one that only she could answer.

Don: “So, I’m curious. From one hoe to another, how did I do? Be straight with me.”

Marci: “Oh, on a scale from one to ten…hmmm…since I was adequately satisfied, I’ll give you a seven. Seven and a half for the spontaneity. Maybe.”

Don: “Uh, excuse me? My performance wasn’t a mere seven — and I went beyond adequate! At least round it out and give me an eight for effort.”

Marci: “Nope. Sorry, but I have pretty high fucking standards, Lothario, and I’m a tough grader. Let this experience humble you.”



The two of them climbed off the bed. He collected his clothes from the floor and got dressed, while she retrieved one of Joshua's hooded sweatshirt and threw it on.

Don: “You going to tell your husband about this? I just need to know if I have to keep my distance for a while.”



She just shook her head at him and laughed.

Marci: “I am. I doubt he’ll flip his lid. Between you and me, he saw this coming sooner than we did. Remember the first night we kissed, behind the house? I told him about it in the morning, after everything came back to me. He didn’t even pretend to be shocked! He thought we did it already.”



Don: “Huh. A girl's husband who hasn’t tried to punch me yet. That’s a first for me, though it does explain why he gives me the snake eye sometimes.”

Marci: “Oh my fucking God, you are so paranoid! How many times do I have to tell you? He doesn’t hate you.”

Don: “No offense, but I’ll believe it when the words come out of his own mouth. So, how does this work for you guys? Your whole…arrangement, or whatever you wanna call it? He never gets jealous?”

Marci: “We talk about it. Probably more than we have to, but we check in with each other and set boundaries. Not that we ever brought anyone else into our marriage yet — as far as I know, anyway. You’re the first.”

Don: “Hah! Seriously? You guys, uh…ever talk about me?”



Marci: “Don’t get too cocky. Our world isn’t centered on you, and I doubt you’re his type…but yeah, we did a few times.”



Marci and her husband were in love…yet somehow, they managed to keep their marriage open without jealousy breaking them apart. Of course, no marriage was perfect. It was possible Marci and Joshua had their ups and downs. Still, whatever arrangement they had seemed to work. They were happy together, beyond his own comprehension.



Don wondered what it would be like if he factored into their lives in any way?



Would it work? People in open relationships claimed they weren’t jealous or uncomfortable with their partners’ lovers, or exploring outside their bedroom, but people were flawed and messy and lied to spare someone’s feelings. Would Joshua willingly accept Don in their lives, as a potential partner for Marci?



Would Marci?

…Why was he even thinking about this?



It was nearly seven in the evening when Don finally left to talk with Katrina. Marci still had her doubts about his intention to work things out with her, but nevertheless she walked him out with nothing but words of encouragement and reassurances, in her own way.

Marci: “Remember, if she wants to yell at you for a while, keep your big mouth shut and let her. You deserve it. But if she’s only interested in talking shit and you can’t take it anymore, turn around and come back here. You got a couch to crash on now, unlimited access.”



Don: “Thanks. You sure you still want me to drop in just for the hell of it sometimes, even when you guys aren’t home?”

Marci: “Why do you ask stupid questions like that? Of course, I do! It’s fine with me. Just don’t make a mess while you’re here. Joshua is super neurotic about keeping the house clean.”

Don: “Yeah, about that? I’m surprised this place is as tidy as it is, considering you live here. This has to be all of his doing. You had that huge hairline crack in your kitchen wall, and what did you do? Slap a poster over it. Groundbreaking solution.”

Marci: “Excuse you! I didn’t slap anything on the walls. I put it in a nice frame first.”



Don was nearly out the door when she grabbed a hold of him again.

Marci: “Hey Don? I won’t make this weird between us if you don’t.”

Don: “I mean, it’s going to be a little weird for a while. I might picture you without clothes on sometimes. That can’t be helped. I’ve seen too much.”

Marci: “I mean, same, but…it’s just sex, okay? It was fun, and I don’t regret it, but I know it stops there. I don’t want you to freak and bail on me over this.”



Don: “Marci, who do you think you’re talking to? If you think I don’t plan on collecting you first thing in the morning for our jog just because you fucked my brains out, you’ve got another thing coming.”



Marci: “Damn, and I was hoping it would be an even trade-off.”

Don: “Nope. Afraid not. I’ll text you.”



Marci: “Let me know how it goes. Remember, I’m here if you need me.”



Marci: “Uh, you gonna let me go or what?”

For a split second, just before he finally released her and left, he asked himself:

What if you stayed?

And that question scared the hell out of him.

***

AUTHOR'S NOTES

1. It's tricky when you have a protagonist who just wants to ignore all of Don's misdeeds and sleazy actions, and you're personally shaking your head at both of them and knowing they're headed down a rough path before anything actually gets better. Don is very unhappy in my canon and needs to figure his shit out, but he's not going to do so without hurting people along the way. Dumbass.

2. I cannot tell you how frustrating it is to take a series of nice storytelling screenshots, get ready to include them in the entry...and realize Marci is wearing the wrong earrings in a few of them, or her freckles are missing for some reason...that Don looks strangely pale in the game's default blue lighting. :| I hadn't realized how much the game's interior lighting whitewashed Don until I installed a new lighting mod, and he appeared darker in the bedroom for two new screenshots I took. I was blown away.

3. Speaking of the lighting. The Caliente's kitchen lighting isn't consistent in the first part whatsoever. I couldn't stand fixing it up in Adobe Photoshop, because all the screenshots came out differently. I just gave up fiddling around with them.