I'll Cover You cpt 2

"Darien, as long as I live, I'll never know how you do it," Amanda Collins, my boss, gushed. Well, she complimented; in my eyes, she gushed.

"Well, I basically take my camera and just go for it. If I get the pictures, I've done my job, and if I don't, then I had nothing to lose in the first place," I coolly replied. I do everything coolly in my version of this story. I'm just cool.

She set down my prints and locked eyes with me. "And you do your job rather well," she said. She uncrossed her legs, unbuttoning the top button of her blouse. "What else do you do well, Darien?"

Alright, alright, so she gave me a compliment, then told me to get out of her office so she could take a lunch. I'm a journalist; it's my job to...add to a story. I couldn't care less about bedding Amanda Collins, but she's such a well-known ball breaker it'd be a great tale for the water cooler. I already had someone that made my head spin. Well, at the time, I had someone.

I decided to take a lunch myself. I seem to blend in at the Journal's offices, so no one would notice if I left.

"Oh, Darien!" Corinne Gehtzel called.

Except her. I pretended not to hear, and kept moving.

Corinne had followed me around like a puppy since she was hired. She was attractive, rich, and funny. But there comes a moment in a man's life where he realises he wants to be with a woman who can talk about something more than herself. After the fifth date, we had gone through the same photo album five times. I had to call it off. Unfortunately, Corinne didn't get the hint.

For now, she didn't need to: I made it to the elevator before she could catch up.

"Rough day, Shields?" Andrew Thompson asked.

"What makes you say that?"

"You ran in here like a...a..."

"Bat out of Hell?"

"You took the words right out of my mouth. So, what was chasing you? Boss? Demon? Irate ex-woman?"

The term girlfriend seemed so adolescent to me that I referred to any woman I had ever been involved with as 'woman.' It saved me a lot of trouble in social situations. "Not so much 'irate' as just 'ex-woman'."

"Corinne?"

"Yes."

"Give her to me. I'll take care of her for a few weeks while you're gone."

"While I'm gone? Where am I going?"

"Richardson didn't tell you yet?"

"I guess not, if I have no idea what you're talking about."

Speak of the devil, the elevator stopped, and in popped Richardson. Great. Not only did he catch me skipping out on an early lunch, but he was probably already preparing to give me a pink-slip vacation.

"Shields! Just the man I wanted to see!"

Jonathan F. Richardson III owns the paper. He is boss of the bosses of my boss. Yeah, kind of important. Picture typical, old, rich, white man, and you have Richardson.

"Why would you want to see someone like me, Mr. Richardson?"

"I have an assignment for you. Three months in a beautiful country!" The elevator doors opened on his floor, and he took me with him. "How do you feel about this? Japan!"

Huh. Japan. I had the feeling he'd send me to Venezuela or something. Japan wasn't really in the news that much, and if they were, it was because they invented some sort of gizmo that we Americans could gawk at. Not the stuff of photojournalism.

"Why Japan?"

"For that very reason!"

Okay, picture a typical, old, rich, white, crazy man, and you have Richardson.

"I'm not sure I follow you, sir."

"No one is thinking of Japan right now! You're my best photographer on staff, and I'm sending you there to find a story that no one would ever think of! I'll be paying all of your travelling expenses, and I'll give you a large stipend for this assignment. What do you say, Shields?"

Did I mention that Richardson is rich? Old man, full of money.

"Sounds great, Mr. Richardson. When do I start?"

"I'm planning on sending you there in a month. Start packing and researching." I turned to get back on the elevator for my lunch. "Oh, and Shields?" The damn man always had something dramatic he had to throw in at the end of everything he said. "Don't fuck this up, okay?"

At least he stayed true to form.

"Okay, Mr. Richardson."

I made it back to my apartment to make myself a sandwich. I tossed my keys on the couch, and hit a button on my answering machine. "You have...ONE...new message. Message ONE:

'Darien, it's me. Raye.'"

I dropped everything to jump directly in front of the answering machine. Raye. I hadn't expected her to call so soon.

"'That's funny that I think I have to say my name like you don't know my voice. Heh. Um...I don't know why I called.'"

Because you forgive me for being an idiot. Please say because you forgive me. Please.

"'I guess it's more habit than anything. Uh...I guess...This is harder than I thought when I rehearsed. I thought you were the one, Darien, but I see now that you're just a typical man: you're no different than the rest. I don't ever want to see you again, Darien Shields.'"

Shit.

"'Don't call me, don't stop by my home, don't stop by the shrine.'"

Raye ran a Shinto shrine in the middle of the city. I met her because I was taking pictures of it for a story in the Lifestyle section or whatever. Pretty places right in your backyard. Little did I know that one of the most beautiful women in my backyard was also there. Her black hair stood out against the backdrop of the wildflowers at the shrine, and I begged her to pose for some pictures with the shrine. She declined, not wanting publicity for herself. When that failed, I begged her to go dinner with me. That worked.

"'You...you just...I am so pissed right now, Darien! I don't even want to know who your little hussy is, but if I ever run into her, I'll...no, I won't do anything, actually, because that would mean I care. And I don't. I don't care about you anymore, Darien. Goodbye. For good.' Message ONE received at ELEVEN A-M, THURSDAY. You can save this message or delete it."

I wavered for a moment before hitting save. If only I had kept happier messages, but right now, this was the only sample of her voice I had. Dammit.

"I thought you were the one, too, Raye," I muttered, collapsing on the couch. I didn't care that my keys were stabbing me in the back; I had lost her. I walked into my bedroom, to my nightstand. I glanced at the sheets. They were still in the same place where she had thrown them last night.

Hell.

Hell shit dammit damn.

"I don't even know who she is!" I growled at no one.

I opened the top drawer of my nightstand and pulled out a small, velvet box. Three months. It had taken me three months to afford this. I opened the box, revealing a half-carat diamond ring. It was a large, sparkling diamond that I compared with all of her other rings, making sure it was the right size. I had gotten it custom made, so everything would be perfect.

Dammit, again, for good measure.

Last night, we had been together for a year. I had everything planned out: I took her to a nice restaurant, and then we came back here for...some fun, shall we say. Oh, forget it. We came back for sex. It'll just make this easier if I don't use euphemisms.

Now, I don't take sex lightly. I've seen too many people regret the act the next morning, so I've always held it with a high regard. Raye was the most important person in my life, and I loved her more than anything, so sex was a physical and emotional experience for both of us.

And that makes last night's occurrence bizarre, to say the least.

We held each other, we talked, we kissed, we got naked. This had all been planned. As we would lie there, Raye in my arms, I would pull out the ring, slip it on her finger, and ask her to marry me. Heh. We never got past the sex part.

I've been having these dreams. There's a princess, wandering around lost, calling out to me. She calls me something else; she doesn't call me 'Darien.' But I know she's calling me. It was a recurring dream to me, nothing more. And last night, it decided to make itself more.

While we're rolling around, an image presented itself in my mind. I see flaxen hair, and hear a giggle. And I can see doing this with someone else, a long time ago. I feel immense love, and responsibility, more so than I do for Raye.

And in the middle of anniversary sex with Raye, right before I plan to propose marriage, my mouth got a mind of its own and I called out, "Serenity..."

Raye was not pleased.

If not her expression, the punch to the stomach let me know her feelings.

"What the hell did you just say? No, no, I heard you say it, I don't want you to repeat it! Actually, no, say it! I want to hear you say it again!" she ranted, pulling on her clothes. "See?! I don't care if you say it! I was silly to think a man could only have one woman for an entire year. Ha! Stupid Raye! What were you thinking?"

I tried to explain that it was a slip; there was no other woman. Understandably, she didn't want to hear my 'lies.'

"Maybe now is the right time to leave for another country," I wondered aloud.

A week before I left for Japan, I stopped by Raye's shrine. Maybe I had given her enough time. Maybe she had forgiven me.

A young high schooler was tending to the flowers when I arrived. She greeted me warmly, but when I told her who I was, and who I was looking for, her demeanour changed. "All you need to know is that she isn't here."

Great.

The dreams about the princess were clearer now. She was calling for Endymion. Was that me? Who knew. Maybe I'd turn it into a novel someday.

But for now, I was off to Japan.