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Playdates and Permission Slips
08. Make New Friends
Author: Godessreiko
Summary: Ororo thinks back, while Scott plans ahead.
Author's Note: Well I do apologize about the wait on this. Been a bit
busy all over again. I had wanted to have this awesome pic of Kat Von D
as Ali (cause it's so very obvious that she's the inspiration of her).
If you don't know who she is watch TLC's Miami Ink or her new show
starting soon LA Ink. Or just google her. Her attitude look and talent
just scream Ali to me.
Ororo glared at her answering
machine. How dare it actually work? Didn’t she screw
around with it enough to break it? No. Dammit! She
put that deed higher on her priority list while she
listened to her two messages left from her
ex-husband.
Message One: “Hello Ororo. This is Prince T’Challa,
Lucas‘s father. (“No shit Sherlock. Tell me
something I don’t know,” Ororo thought.) I wanted to
know if you were still going to accompany Lucas to
his Orientation? Please let me know soon if you
cannot. I will send a car for him. (“Oh noes, not
even the idea of picking him up yourself is going
anywhere near that inflated head of yours, is it?”)
Message Two: “Ororo, I do not know where you are or
where my grandson are, (“Oh shit. It’s the old
one-two punch.”) and frankly I just do not like it.
(Hellooo I have a job, and, dare I say, a life of my
own!) Seriously, where are you? At work? Oh please.
We all know you do not need that business of yours.
It’s simply a farce. A teenaged way of getting back
at your dead parents. Grow up Ororo! Not only that,
if you’re there, does that mean my grandson is with
those insolent American nannies. I will not
tolerate--- BEEEEP
Message deleted.
She couldn’t believe it. T’Challa couldn’t get his
way so he told his Mommy! Ororo looked up at herself
in her foyer mirror. Ahuh, you married him, and his
mother. Was it worth it? Outside of Lucas, hell no.
Would you do anything like that again, she asked her
silent reflection.
Absolutely not. Nope! Not in any way shape or form.
Marriage was what other people were for. Clients, in
fact. Which reminded her, to work on those sketches
of wedding gowns to premier next year at Fashion
Week. She groaned at the thought. Talk about a slap
in the face. Ororo Monroe, allergic to relationships
and marriage, promoting the pomp and ceremony that
became the bane of her existence.
Life was just grand.
It seemed as if the karma in her life was always on
the move. One minute all the things in her life were
making her feel content and loved, the next moment
everything caved in on itself. She would be left
bereft, alone, and suddenly found her self starting
over empty handed.
It wouldn’t be so alarming if this hadn’t happened
over and over.
First living with her parents. Fine and dandy. Daddy
always had his camera. Ororo had fond memories of
turning her father’s camera this way and that trying
to get it to take the beautiful pictures of the
Savanna she saw her Father develop. Off course her
pictures were usually of her own stubby fingers
because they kept getting in the way. She and her
father would sit on the grasses for hours waiting
for just the right moment. The sun would turn pick
and orange and the trees would look almost black.
Then her father would magically produce a soccer
ball. She and some of the local kids would play
until it got to dark to see. Her father would always
make fair calls too. It was Ororo’s favorite place
and time.
Then she would go home, and everything changed. Her
mother was the polar opposite of her father.
Everything had a preordained path. Everything and
everyone had a place. Ororo was supposed to be just
like her. A cultural leader, a lady, well respected,
pristine. A pure combination of old fashioned
western ideas layered on top of and intertwined with
traditional Kenyan roles. So when Ororo came home
with bumps, bruises, and dirt stains from a rousing
soccer game, her mother was not very pleased.
Her mother wasn’t pleased when she brought home good
grades in algebra. Nor was she elated when those
grades sent her to a mix-sex school because it was
the top elementary school in Kenya.
N’dare was excited when Ororo finally picked up a
Barbie and wouldn’t put it down. Ororo remembered
how her Father groaned. She promised him that they
would always go on walk-abouts together and play
ball. David watched his wife mingle at a party they
were hosting when he took Ororo outside to show her
a secret present.
There in a long box with a bow on it, was a shiny
aluminum softball bat and a buttery soft leather
glove. Ororo squeed throughout the rest of the
night.
N’Dare found out, and the fight that ensued was on
for the books. David defended his actions valiantly.
He wanted her to grow up fearless and be able to
rescue herself and not have to wait on anyone, or
have anyone wait on her. N’Dare wanted Ororo to be a
lady. Some who could secure a home and run it
efficiently. Ororo never forgot her father’s
response to that.
“Ororo will be able to build her own home, single
handily.”
Back then, Ororo didn’t know what any of that meant.
She sat at her little child’s sewing machine and
made Barbie her very own softball uniform. She was
surprised when it finished that all the seams were
in the right places and it fit! Not bad, she thought
to herself. Not bad at all.
Then it her.
When Ororo told her mother about her
fanfriggintastic idea about making the best clothes
in the world, she really didn’t expect her mother’s
panic stricken expression. The next thing that
happened was very unexpected for Ororo. N’Dare had
made a few phone calls, and a few days later she had
noticed that her mother’s friend Ramonda, that she
really didn’t like being around, started to come by
a lot with her husband, some king guy that Ororo
ignored just as much as he ignored her, and their
son who did nothing more than boss Ororo around and
literally made her cheer on the sidelines.
Even as a boy T’Challa wanted nothing more than to
be a bigger better more improved version of his
father, T’Chaka. So he went around with his chest
puffed out, standing up straighter than was natural,
and made sure that everyone knew what was his.
He hadn’t changed a bit even as an adult.
A couple of years had gone by, and the majority of
Ororo’s free time had been spent with T’Challa.
Ororo would pout when T’Challa would get on her
nerves and her mother, and his, would laugh it off
in high pitched giggles commenting on how well they
were getting along. David would pick Ororo up and
swing her around telling her in her ear that he was
sorry and that he tried as hard as he could. Ororo
remembered laying her head on his shoulder and
calling him silly. Back then, she knew he had
nothing to be sorry about. She still believed that
today.
It wasn’t too soon after that, Ororo had her seventh
birthday. N’Dare had suggested that they go to
Ororo’s favorite place in the world. Egypt. There
both husband and daughter would marvel at the
ancient monuments while the mother took in the
luxuries and rights of being a princess, herself.
She would often wish she could be closer to her
daughter, but if the price of raising a real
princess and future world leader was the cost of her
relationship, then N’Dare reluctantly paid it every
day. But tonight they were going to be a family.
N’Dare had arrange for everyone’s favorite food to
be brought for room service along with a delicious
Ethiopian honey wine. That would make the bombshell
she was going to drop much easier to take. Or so she
hoped.
That night as everyone sat down to down. Everyone
was a bit nervous at the light airy mood. It wasn’t
the norm.
N’Dare seized the moment. She told Ororo that when
she turned twenty-one that she would be marrying
T’Challa.
That was it. No if’s and’s or but’s.
Ororo wanted to laugh. She…she was just a second
year student at a primary school. Marriage? And was
it just her or did twenty-one sound like there was
something wrong with it. She looked at her father
with so many questions on her scrunched up face. He
looked like he was going to burst into sad little
pieces, but then he looked at her and smiled gently.
N’Dare didn’t understand what she had done until
that very moment.
Unfortunately by then, it was too late.
The very foundation of the hotel shook like a jello
mold. The steel beams and wooden studs couldn’t keep
up with the movement and began to buckle
uncontrollably. The walls cracked like ice breaking
and dust fell from the ceiling. The Monroe family
stood up panicked. Ororo clung to her mother’s side
while David opened the door to see what was
happening. Someone came running down the hall with
an automatic rifle screaming the name of the local
dictator trying to amass power. David saw bleeding
bodies riddled with holes being smashed by debris.
Another violent explosion rocked the hall. It threw
apart mother and daughter. David went to save at
least one of his girls but a support beam caught him
in the legs. The humongous piece of steal separating
all three family members from each other.
N’Dare watched in horror as her lover, best friend,
and husband grimaced in anguish but tried and
succeeded in looking at her as if she had bigger
problems. Ororo watched in terrifying horror as her
mother clasped on to her father’s graying hands.
It was only moments before he dropped his head and
stopped breathing.
Ororo shook her head as more dust shook down from
the ceiling and fell on her. She looked up, just in
time, to see the ceiling rip apart. Another support
beam dropped.
N’Dare ran towards her daughter and pushed her hard
enough to give her enough momentum to break through
the window behind her as the hotel collapsed in on
itself killing all those who remained inside.
As she cleared her head of the horrific memory,
Ororo shed the few tears that were threatening her
eyes.
After being caught by Egyptian authorities and
placed in an orphanage Ororo had became a perpetual
runaway. She smiled ruefully. It seemed as if Lucas
had her ability to never hold still most of the
time. It felt so free to focus on her son rather
than herself. It reminded her of an old song lyric.
Keep on Truckin’.
No wait. That wasn’t it.
Keep on keeping on.
Well, either way, that was how she lived her life.
If things started to suck, leave and find a better
place, or let karma do it for you.
Ororo remembered a few months in Cairo before being
adopted by an American family. After social services
came to take her after charges of abuse, she came
across the Xaviers.
Apparently they had a habit of taking in former
runaways and abused children. That’s where a twelve
year old Ororo met a thirteen year old Scott
Summers. Sure they clashed a lot…ok, constantly. But
Lilan and Charles were always there to remind them
that they were now related and would never be free
from each other. So they had better learn to get
along.
Ororo giggled at her initial reaction. Boooooo….
It wasn’t until Charles’s near ancient family
mansion that housed they’re ever expanding family,
caught on fire that Ororo caught a glimpse of the
man Scott was to become.
He was just like her father.
Afterwards they had become the best of friends.
She was there for him when through those pizza face
stages. He helped her fit in when she was the
awkward quiet token black girl.
She introduced him to Jean.
Scott introduced her to his mechanic friend.
Ororo bought Scott his first box of condoms and
taught him about pinching the tip and how to take
them off without anything dripping, getting all over
everywhere, and making a complete mess.
He often covered for her party girl times with
kleptomaniac best friend Remy Lebeau and
musian/artist/dancer friend Alison Blaire.
In return she would shower him with mix taped of the
greatest pop hits or the next fad in underground
music. Ororo kept his affinity for hip-hop a secret.
One of the many they shared.
Ororo thought about how out of all the times she had
held Scott’s advice sacred, she didn’t know why she
didn’t listen to him about the second time T’Challa
came into her life.
He told her that T’Challa was in “love” with her for
himself and his family. His feelings had nothing to
do with Ororo, herself.
Did she listen? Nope.
Good thing Scott wasn’t one for gloating. Her self
confidence was extinct when T’Challa put her through
the ringer during the pricey humiliating divorce.
The only thing Ororo was able to keep was sole
custody of Lucas.
That wasn’t even an original condition for the
divorce. Ororo grunted at that memory. T’Challa had
gotten everything! Every*bloody*thing. He had sole
custody of Lucas. It was just too bad that within
that year, father and son had seen each other for
about three days. A slew of nannies and nursemaids
had taken on parental duties. The year after that
Ramonda had taken on Lucas herself.
Lucas was so confused and lonely. He had fallen into
a deep depression and hadn’t spoken a word since he
had been separated from his mother in the first
place. Ramonda thought her self made remedies would
cure him up. The courts promptly took Lucas away and
placed him back with his mother.
Ororo thanked her lucky stars that Lucas was born
stateside. She looked down at her boy and said a
silently thank you to those who were still looking
out for her.
She looked at the clock. She might as well make an
attempt at those garments she was supposed to have
done already. She wouldn’t get them done tomorrow
night because of Orientation.
She sat down and began to rip threw her own
carefully sewn seam only having to remake it in a
different spot. Ahh…art imitating life, once again.
After about an hour of that, Ororo felt her mind
wonder again. This time to the fairly recent present
times. She smiled at how much fun she had recently.
Who would have thought that yet another mechanic but
gruff papa would peek her interest?
Thinking about Logan let a couple of other things
peek as well.
She quickly crossed her arms over her chest and
scolded herself mentally. That was the last thing
she needed. She had only had sex with three people
in her life, and the worst karma ever followed her
around afterwards. It so wasn’t worth it. Besides
she has yet to have…oh what do you call it?
A thing of myth and legend?
She tapped her head repeatedly to get her thoughts
straight.
Duh! That’s what it was called.
An orgasm.
Ororo looked at the phone that was a few inches away
from her machine. Would Logan be up…err awake at
this time at night, for a lonely phone call from a
practical stranger?
She picked up the cordless and began to dial.
~*-*~
Scott groaned as he watched more children butcher
the hell out of some 70’s classics rearranged for
the piano.
Damn, he thought, maybe he should walk Rachel and
Nate out and take them to a teacher not a butcher.
The “student” hit another sour note and that when
Scott heard the heel of a high heel hit the hardwood
floor as hard as it could. Apparently the teacher
had enough. He and the two children dared to peek
around the corner into the classroom and sighed in
defeat when they couldn’t see anything. The children
sat back in their seats while Scott did a double
take at the long leg that peeked out of the navy
blue skirt. The bottom of that ankle had about an
inch of colorful and insightful tattoos wrapped
around it. The design lead into a black classic
mary-jane. (Hmm, that shoe looked familiar?) It
almost looked like the owner of that delectable limb
once lived wild and now was tweaked into a civilian
life.
Scott looked up at the clock when the sagging
student came out to his waiting parent. He had
finished eighteen minutes early.
He lead the children back to their classroom and he
had a strange feeling wrap itself around him. He
shrugged it off and blamed it on the upcoming
debate.
He walked the children in and was taken aback when
the woman with the apple bottom and the tight
princess cut blouse turned around.
“Ali?!!”
“Scott,” Ali shrieked. “My god, I haven’t seen you
in ages.”
Scott raised a brow and couldn’t help but stare at
this totally unrecognizable woman before him.
“Yea, you look…look ah…totally different.”
“I’m actually surprised you recognized me. No one
from back in the day does.”
Scott awkwardly scratched the back of his hand and
laughed nervously.
“It was the shoes. You and Ro single-hand brought
them into style again, I think.”
Ali threw her head back for a heartfelt laugh and
that’s when Scott got a real good look at her.
Alison had been the preppy blonde cheerleader with
an eclectic taste in music. She had seemed far away
from blue collar musicians or high class opera and
musical score sound. Scott hated to think of her
this way, but she had the outward appearance and
attitude of a pop tart while in high school.
But she had some drastic changes to her now. First
and foremost was the hair. The blond was gone.
Completely. In it’s place was a kitten forties style
black as night straight sheet of silk. It was
fringed with a messy uneven but extremely short
bangs and the legnth in the back was pulled in a
side ponytail. Making her look like Betty Page who
took on a teaching job. But that wasn’t her most
startlingly new feature.
It was her face. She had a beautiful starry pattern
that gradually faded and got smaller tattooed on the
right side of her face that hovered around her eye.
The black ink against her porcelain skin gave it
that night sky look. Scott didn’t even want to
imagine how much that had hurt.
Then he crunched some mental numbers. That had to be
at least four tattoos. His curiosity was up in arms,
as were some other things. Which was extremely
unusual. He had always wanted the June Cleaver
stable safe kind of woman.
Like Jean.
This oddly comfortable brand spankin’ (:D) new
Alison was so far from his norm.
She bad the children to take their usual sits and
they gladly did.
“Scott, why don’t you sit in this session. It would
be nice to catch up with you afterwards. I’m going
to have a few extra minutes.” Ali lifted her hand
gracefully to point to some leather seat in the back
of the studio room.
Scott watched the curve of her hand and noticed the
intricate burn-sienna colored design on her palm
that stretched out to her fingers. There wasn’t a
single part of her that wasn’t interesting, over
exposed, or desperate.
Just artfully designed. And he knew from experience
that each piece of body art had a story to tell. He
wanted to hear them all from her. He doubted those
eighteen minutes would cover it.
Scott looked at his kids warming up. “Hey you kids
keep up at it for minute, I want to talk to Ms.
Blaire outside for a second.”
They nodded halfheartedly at him. Of course they
followed him right up to the threshold to hear every
word of the conversation.
Rachel sighed at the two adults. “I wonder if he’s
gonna ask her out?”
Nate looked at her as if she had three heads. “You
can’t be serious. Or did you forget about Mom.”
Rachel kept her eyes on her father and looked at him
whistfully. As much as she loved her parents. Papa
was her favorite and she wanted him to smile and
laugh and stuff. He hasn’t done that in a long long
time. He sure was smiling now.
Nate softened up. He knew his sister has yet to
forget about being angry at her mother for those
overnight hang-outs with Laura’s dad. He was sure
that Rachel didn’t mention it, and his Mom didn’t
think that anyone else knew.
He really didn’t want to be around when that came
out. He’d be sure to find himself over Lucas’s house
then. And he would definitely make sure that his
mother was home. He may need a hug or two or five.
Nate looked up when he saw that his teacher had
shifted her attention wholly to their father.
“So, Ali, um how long have you been around.”
“Don’t you talk to your sister? I’ve been here for a
while. Poor you. You’re the one who’s been busy.
Plus you got NOSY little buggers and a wife
following you around.”
Scott looked away for a minute. Jean hasn’t been
around him and only him in far too long. Even when
he was home often there was excuses with her. But
this had nothing to do with her. All he wanted to do
was genuinely catch up with a friend.
Really.
“Are you going to be free anytime soon. We could get
some…”
“I don’t drink coffee and I‘m not free this month
either. I‘m sorry.” She wanted to pet him when she
saw his crestfallen face. “Aw, are you going to give
up so easily?”
“Huh?”
“And so eloquent for a lawyer too. I have another
job at night, and a different job on the weekends
too. Come to Oreintation and we’ll see.”
“Oh damn. I really have to go to that then, don’t
I?”
She walked back to the classroom and threw him a
sexy smile before disappearing back inside.
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