“LJ!”

Jordan looked up from the chart she was scribbling on. She raised an eyebrow towards Mike, the morgue photographer.

“You’ve got a call. Line two.”

Jordan wrinkled her forehead. She’s never gotten any personal call on the office phone, not that she wanted to anyway. She didn’t even give the number to her family. Who would have called then? “Who is it, Mike?”

“Do I look like your personal secretary?” Mike scoffed, all the while chiding at the pictures scattered on his table. “Or do you want me to tell him you’re not in?”

Jordan sighed. She heaved herself off the metallic table where she had been sitting on for the last thirty minutes or so. “Fine.” She grabbed the receiver of one of the connecting phone. “Wakefield.”

“LJ?”

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

“Damn. This is really the New York Hospital Morgue?” inquired the caller. He clicked his tongue in disbelief.

Jordan chuckled. “Yes sir. Did you miss the front desk or something?”

Laughter rang in her ear, and Jordan clicked in recognition. “LJ! Kiddo, I missed you! The last place I thought I’d hear from you is the morgue!”

Jordan laughed too, feeling both shocked and happy to hear the voice on the other line. “Hey yourself, Dumpster. I thought I wouldn’t hear from you at all. Where did you get this number?”

“Wait, just tell me this one stuff. Are there any bodies really lying in 10-feet radius from where you’re standing?”

“Uh huh. Do you want me to make a head count?” replied Jordan, grinning good-naturedly. She noticed Mike’s head popping out from the office, obviously trying to eavesdrop.

“Shit!”

Jordan chuckled again. “Very eloquent of you. Now, where the heck did you get this number?”

“Oh, you know, a few calls… And perhaps a yellow pages index.” Jordan could almost detect the smile forming on the other end.

She smiled too. After all, it’s been ages since she last had any conversation with Roger ‘Dumpster’ Amstrong, her homeroom best friend in high school. They were tight all the way from freshman out to senior year, and right after high school ended, both of them went separate ways. Jordan earned a scholarship to Princeton while Roger opted for UCLA. Nevertheless, they managed exchanging Christmas cards and a few phone calls annually, to keep the friendship going.

“Hello?”

Jordan snapped out of her memory lane. She laughed out loud. “Sorry, Dumpster. So you tracked me down, huh? What’s up?”

“Do you have any plans for Christmas?”

“Chicago with Lucas and James, I guess. Why?”

“Great. How about a snow-free Christmas down here in LA?”

That piqued her interest. When was the last time they celebrated Christmas together? Was it, like, 7 years ago? “Now, what fun is there if there’s no snow on Christmas?”

“Yo, come on, LJ. You’re not cool like that, indigenous, conservative. Mediocre. Traditional….”

Jordan cut him off with another laughter. “Right, go on bruising my ego, man. You can take the girl out of Chicago, but you can’t take Chicago outta her,” she remarked. “Plus, you’re the one speaking like a nigger. Don’t be calling me indigenous, you hot-shot, I-live-in-LA-but-I-really-do-speak-like-Dr. Dre, Malibu Ken!”

Roger laughed out loud. Jordan always managed to have the last laugh. They both enjoyed their hearty outburst for a few seconds, before the both of them fell into silence again.

“So.”

“Come on, LJ. You’ll have fun. I’ll arrange for Kate to bring you around. We’ll mellow for awhile in time for Christmas, and I’ll throw this huge kick-ass New Year Party after. Think about it, girl. All expenses paid. Take it as an early Christmas gift.”

Jordan twirled the phone cord around her fingers, deep in thoughts. It’s been awhile since she last met up with her two brothers back home. Lucas and James wouldn’t be happy to hear the news. After all, she did skip last Thanksgiving dinner because of the entrance exam. “I don’t know, Dumpster. Jimmie won’t be too happy. I ditched Thanskgiving, I’m supposed to be making up for Christmas.”

“I’ll talk to Jimmie,” offered Roger.

“No offense, Dumpster. But why are you so bent on inviting me over? You could have just come downtown, have a cup of Starbucks with me during one of your usual visits to town, right?” Jordan inquired. She loved Roger like a brother, but she knew how his mind works, most of the time.

“Just get your ass down, LJ. And we’ll talk.”

***

Jordan was loving the Californian sun already. New York is cool for her career, but she was accepting the fact that she missed out a lot from living in a latitude-advantaged state like New York. It’s been less than 2 hours since she touched her feet on LAX, and already she was enjoying the cool breeze of eternal summer in LA.

“So you really work in a morgue, huh? I thought Roger was kidding when he told me so,” Kate spoke. She was careful while maneuvering her BMW towards the Sunset Boulevard exit. She stole a look at the brunette beside her in the passenger seat.

Jordan opened an eye, peeking at Kate, who at the same time flashed her a quick smile. “Yeah, I’m a pathologist. Not really your sensational, overpaid cardio or brain surgeon,” she replied, giving Kate a smile in return.

Kate chuckled. “Come on, you graduated at Top 10 of your class, why did you choose the morgue when you could be rubbing shoulders with Dr. House or that cute McDreamy?”

Jordan sat up straighter in her seat, laughing. “Oh, you’re a fan of Grey’s too?”

“Hun, I happen to be their publicist.”

Jordan flashed a sheepish grin while Kate burst out laughing. “I thought you’re one of the guys’ too,” replied Jordan.

“No, only one Backstreet’s lapdog in the family, please,” Kate answered, waving her hand breezily.

Jordan laughed. So maybe her stay in LA won’t be too mindless after all with Kate around. She eyed the blonde enviously. Great hair, great legs, great boobs combined with a great sense of style and down-to-earth nature, she summed up that Roger has made a fine selection in the girlfriend department. “So, where exactly is Dumpster? I thought he’d be the one picking me up. Did I get into your schedule of something? Cuz I would hate it if I get in between of your work.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Nonsense. Roger’s got caught up in a press conference with the guys, but he’ll be back in time for dinner, tho. Now that we have plenty of time to ourselves, do you have any particular place you would like to go to?”

Jordan wrinkled her eyebrow. “This New Year party he’s throwing. Will that cute McVet from Grey’s be there too?”

Kate cast her a sideway glance. “You mean O’ Donnell? Yeah, he’ll be there.”

“Great. Now, do you know the nearest boutique?”

***

“What smells so great?”

“Oh, look at the person who finally shows up right after we polished the sink,” Kate declared, tip-toeing to peck on Roger’s cheek. “I thought you wouldn’t make it till New Year. What took you so long?”

Roger grinned. “Sorry, sweetie. The guys wanted to settle everything up before Christmas. Even if that means last-minute arrangements regarding recordings and dates.” He grabbed a few silverware off Kate’s hand and started helping her setting up the table. “Where’s LJ?”

“Brilliant friend you are for leaving me stranded at the airport. But I forgive you for having a girlfriend like Kate,” Jordan spoke, making her entrance into the dining room. She was carrying a turkey on a silver platter, brilliantly done and crispy. “Now, where’s my hug, Dumpster?”

Roger recovered and quickly engulfed her in a sideway hug, careful not to tip the platter she was carrying. “Shorty! It’s good to see you!” He pulled off at arm-length and admired her full view. “Girl, I didn’t take it you were a cashmere girl,” he joked.

Jordan grinned. “I’d say likewise if you didn’t leave me stranded, you fool,” she chided. She carefully placed the bird on the middle of the table. “You can’t possibly tell me we’re going to chow up this big bird all by ourselves.”

Kate pulled off the cork off the wine’s bottle and proceeded on into pouring the red sparkling liquid into the crystal goblets. “He has a surprise for you actually, J.”

“Oh yeah?” she inquired, her eyebrows twitching up. “Good or bad surprise?” she asked again, taking a seat at one of the chairs. “I’m not going to lose my appetite with this surprise, am I?”

Roger grinned. He pulled off the tie binding his neck and took a place next to Kate. “I thought nothing could affect your appetite, J. Not even if it’s the end of the world.”

“Eh, you’re right there,” remarked Jordan. “But you’re also saying that I’m a pig in between the lines. I’m not gonna mind with the Christmas spirit and all, so, just tell me about this surprise. Is Chris O’ Donnell coming for dinner?”

Roger’s grin turned into a full-fledge wrinkle. “O’ Donnell? ‘Vertical Limit’s’ O’ Donnell?”

Jordan nodded eagerly, folding her hands on the table neatly. “Yeah, that works too. Or you could just call him McVet in short.”

Roger raised an eyebrow. He cast a glance at Kate, who grinned back in return. She mouthed ‘Grey’s’ to him and he aahed. “Why the heck would he be coming for dinner? And why the heck are you wishing that he would?”

“He’s not? So he’s not the surprise?”

Roger laughed. “Aww, J. I thought you’re more of a Matt Damon kinda guy.”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She clasped her hand together. “Say the prayer already. I’m starved. The bird looks like it’s about to fly off the table any minute now.”

“Haven’t your brothers told you it’s rude not to wait on your guest?” Roger reproved, shaking his head gently. All the same he reached over and patted her lightly on the head. Jordan scowled. “Let’s talk about your day. What did you ladies do today?”

Kate grinned. “I took her out shopping. She bought this killer dress,” she relayed, wriggling her eyebrows.

Roger waited for any upcoming outburst. No outburst. He raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? ‘This killer dress’? No ravishing about it? Come on, girls. Work on your adjectives here.”

Kate and Jordan laughed. Leave it to Roger to sound so gay. As Jordan was about to open her mouth, the doorbell rang. The three of them exchanged looks.

“Is that the surprise?” Jordan asked quietly.

Roger answered by giving her a double-jerky eyebrow and stood up to open the door. “Now, be on your best behavior. Don’t scream too loudly, do not pick food on my plate, and do not kick me on my shin. And that goes for you too, Kate,” Roger spoke, one hand on the brass handle, and the other busy waving warning signs to the girls. “Does everybody get me?”

Kate rolled her eyes, while Jordan managed to wrinkle her forehead. “Yikes. I don’t do screams, man,” she retorted.

“I know, I know. Just a reminder.” The doorbell rang again.

“Open the door already, Roger,” called Kate from the table.

Roger obliged and opened the front door, revealing a man in maroon cashmere sweater and a pair of black slacks. Kate grinned as she took a look at Jordan, who narrowed her eyes to focus on the stranger’s face.

“Nick. You made it, man. Come in, come in,” said Roger, ushering Nick in.

Nick made his way in and Roger closed the door. A bottle of expensive-looking wine changed hands. “Sorry dude. A corny gift but this is all I could come up within an hour,” Nick said, smiling apologetically.

A look of recognition registered on Jordan’s face and she cast a look at Kate. Kate was still smiling goofily. Jordan mouthed ‘surprise’ and Kate broke off, laughing. Yes, that was indeed a surprise.

The men started approaching the table, chatting animatedly. When they finally arrived into the room, Kate and Jordan instinctively stood up.

“Nick, good to see you,” Kate spoke, as they exchanged hugs.

Nick grinned. “Likewise, Katie. Thank you for having me.”

“Dude, I know it’s Christmas, but you don’t have to be so freaking courteous just about everything,” Roger remarked, handing the bottle of wine to Kate. Their attention settled on Jordan, who was standing quietly at the corner. Roger grinned and slung an arm around Jordan’s shoulder.

“So, I finally got to meet the infamous LJ,” greeted Nick politely, smiling. He extended a hand and they exchanged a brief handshake. “I’m Nick Carter.”

Jordan smiled in between confusion. “I kinda get that from MTV, but what I don’t get is how you actually know my name.”

Nick laughed. “Roger here talks about you all the time,” explained Nick. “I even know your middle name, doesn’t that sound scary to you or what?”

Jordan raised an eyebrow and broke into a grin. “Indeed.”

They all took a place beside the table. Roger started leading the prayer, and the honor of cutting up the turkey was passed to Nick. Jordan happily munched on her meal while Kate, Roger and Nick talked animatedly about work. She was on her second helping of fettuccini when Roger purposely kicked her on her shin.

“Ouch!” She shot a glare at Roger. “What the heck is that for?”

“You were so unusually quiet, I thought I might give you a start,” replied Roger. Kate shook her head at her boyfriend’s antique while Nick let out a small laugh.

“By giving me a cracked patella?”

“Now, the doctor in her has spoken,” raved Roger. “Come on, J. Tell us about yourself. For Nick’s benefit, of course.”

Jordan flashed a tight smile. Her mediocre job compared to their high-end lifestyles, she felt like the newspaper boy. “Yeah? I thought you managed that already. He even knows my middle name. Don’t you, Nick?”

Nick grinned. “Yes, but they all are in vague details. Roger did tell us you’re an MD. Really, I didn’t think Roger could manage to have somebody as smart like you as a best friend.”

Roger rolled his eyes while Jordan grinned good-naturedly. “I was the one tutoring her physics and now she’s the smart one?” Roger retorted. Everybody broke into laughter.

“So, in what field are you specializing?” Nick continued the talk.

“I’m a pathologist,” said Jordan. “I don’t think revealing the nature of my job over dinner is wise tho,” she joked. Kate shuddered while Roger made gagging sound.

Nick smiled tightly, obviously confused. “Pardon my ignorance but my medical terms are really limited, considering I don’t really bond well with hospitals, you see.”

Jordan grinned. “I investigate pathologies, or diseases, in English.” She noticed Nick nodded in understanding. “I investigate development of diseases, their origins, how they affect the human bodies and lastly, the causes of mortality in human.”

Nick stopped nodding and eyed her cautiously. “Causes of mortality? Wait, you’re not a forensic surgeon, are you?”

Jordan nodded slightly. “That works too.”

Nick shuddered, his eyes doubled their original size.

“Okay. Off to a brighter subject,” Jordan announced, trying to change the topic.

Nick shook his head in awe. “I surely envy those corpses,” he remarked lightly.

Jordan pulled a confused smile. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“I won’t mind being cut up by a beautiful surgeon like you.”

“Listen, I don’t see how this would work,” Jordan reasoned. “I’d love to help. Really, I do. What he needs is a cop. FBI. Or Secret Service. CIA. Anything indicating protector of law and justice.”

Roger pressed his back on the couch while his hand gently rocked the crystal glass in his hand. Nick has gone back home earlier, claiming he’d have an early day the next day as he was flying off to Florida for Christmas. They were hanging out at the lounge after dinner when he decided to break the news to her. Unfortunately, Jordan didn’t take the news too well. He gave out a sigh. “You’re technically a cop too, right?”

Jordan rolled her eyes. Kate clicked her tongue sympathetically. “I told you it won’t work, sweetie. You can’t exactly pull LJ out of her life and place her in the middle of nowhere,” explained Kate.

Jordan nodded solemnly. “I deal with dead people, Dumpster. Not live ones.”

Roger chuckled. “This kid might as well be dead too if you don’t agree to this,” he replied bitterly.

Jordan sighed. “Touch wood.” She looked over at Kate for support. Kate managed a tight smile in return. “I’m not a professional in this area. Look, I know a few folks who work as private investigators, and some of them were ex-agents…”

“J, we’d have access to them if we wanted to. But the deal is, we want somebody familiar, somebody we could call family. Somebody we could actually trust. You think I haven’t given all these a thought before?” Roger butted in, obviously the day has gotten to him. He ran a hand through the sandy blond locks. Kate patted his chest lightly to remind him to chill down. “Sorry, J. Didn’t mean to scorch down on you like that.”

Jordan flashed a tired smile. “Don’t worry about it. I understand your overprotective nature over your friends. I’ve been there before, remember?”

Roger gave out a small laugh.

Kate sat up straight, trying to make better of the situation. “Jordan, I know it’s an impossible request. But I hope you would give it a few days’ thought and perhaps you can think it through. You have well till New Year, plenty of time, right?” she prodded on gently.

Jordan fell silent. It’s hard to straight out disappoint your friends. The least she could do was giving it a thought. She nodded slowly, and felt a surge of relief as Roger and Kate exchanged happy glances.

***

Kate turned down the comforter and climbed into bed. She watched as Roger silently close the bathroom door behind him. He looked well deep in thoughts; the wrinkles on his forehead gave it away. Kate sighed. “Ya know, you can’t exactly blame her if she turns this down,” she reminded him gently. “She is a good friend, but asking her to jeopardize her career is like asking too much, don’t you think?”

Roger heaved slowly onto the bed and kicked off his bedroom slippers. “I’m well aware of that,” he answered curtly.

“She’s one of the best CSI forensics in the country. And she’s working her ass off on a research to win a sponsorship. If she quits now, you know it’s impossible for her to make a comeback,” Kate continued.

Roger nodded solemnly, all the while giving his back to her. He knew the odds that Jordan was going to reject this agreement was almost close to a 100%, but he couldn’t help but let the false hope bloomed in his mind.

“You always want things your way, don’t you?”

And he couldn’t help nodding at that too.

***

“I met my date to Cannes on Christmas eve.”

“You mean, LJ? She’s seriously here?” AJ inquired, sitting up straighter on the lounge chair. The guys had celebrated Christmas with their respective families and hadn’t been in touch with each other. It’s New Year’s Eve and all of them are back in town, with AJ dropping by Nick’s crib to hang out.

Nick nodded. “Yeah. Remember Roger invited me to dinner?” He flipped the meat patty on the BBQ drill expertly before continuing. “She’s going to be here until New Year.”

“Cool, cool. So this LJ, did she try to jump your pants?” asked AJ, grinning goofily.

Nick laughed. “I guess I was trying to jump her pants,” he answered truthfully.

“Whoa. Details, dude. Details,” AJ demanded. He shifted on the lounge chair in order for a better excess on Nick’s face. He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Been a long time since I heard this one.”

Nick’s laughter faded into a grin. Yeah, that he agreed. Been a long time since he paid any attention to women after Paris left him high and dry for the male version of her namesake. Nick chuckled for good measures, trying to remember the Christmas’ eve’s dinner. “She’s your typical doctor; brainy, eloquent, able to hold a conversation outside the topic of nails and dresses.”

“Yeah, that I get. Nice to know all that Princeton education didn’t go to waste,” added AJ. “So, a good head on the shoulder. Come on, I know you’re more superficial than that, Kaos.”

Nick rolled his eyes, but nevertheless he chuckled at how true AJ’s insinuation was. “She’s one of the best CSI forensic surgeons in the country, dude. Tho she modestly declined such commendation, you could see through her vibrant smile how brilliant she really is,” he continued, lifting the now-done meat patties onto a plate. “I’ve never had a more intellectual conversation with any other women before,” he concluded.

AJ raised an eyebrow, perplexed. “And that excites you because?”

“Come on, AJ. How many women do you know dissect human guts and thread intestines for a living?” Nick shot back.

AJ tilted his head to the side, pushing his orange sunshades up onto his head. “You’ve got a point there. Funny, but I could see how you could get turned on by all of these,” AJ replied, grinning mischievously. “Such a high achiever that one. Are you sure she’d be willing to accompany your silly ass to Cannes?”

“Double ha and a half,” Nick retorted. “Come on, I ain’t finished yet!”

“You mean, she’s got more than a 3-digit IQ?”

“Yeah. She’s pretty tall, almost up to my shoulder. Giselle look-alike but more generous with her smile, you got what I’m saying? Has a Filipino bloodline. She also teaches Judo in her free time. Oh, did I mention she’s a sharp shooter too?”

AJ’s lower jaw was literally hanging.

Nick laughed. He motioned to AJ to close his mouth. “Come on, let’s go in and eat.”

“Ehm, are you still up on swapping dates?”

***

Jordan threw the front door to her loft open and shut it behind her with a thud. It was a long flight, and she had to leave for the hospital in less than 2 hours. Who the hell works on New Year’s Eve, man? Not cool…

“D!” she hollered across the empty loft.

“In here!” came the muffled reply of her roommate, Diana. Jordan made her way to the kitchen, stopping by her make-shift room to leave her duffel by the door. She heard a kid’s gurgling sound followed by laughter. Jordan’s face instantly lit up.

“You’re back early,” Diana acknowledged with a sideway glance. She was busy feeding the toddler in front of her, or at least what looked like she was trying to.

Jordan sighed as she plopped down at one of the wooden stools lining the island counter. “Yeah. This time I don’t mind the party, man. I think I have enough of SAW 3 for awhile. Gimme a break,” she gagged and rested her chin on the counter. “Tina’s working?” she continued, while making funny faces to the child.

Diana nodded. “Yeah. She can’t take the New Year off. She dropped Dylan off a little while ago. I’m cool til evening, after that he’s yours,” Diana explained, giving her an apologetic smile.

“No prob. I’ll wrap up real quick. Be back around 6, I guess.” She heaved herself off the stool and went around the counter towards baby Dylan’s chair. She ruffled the blonde locks gently and took the spoon offered by Diana. “Eat for mama, Dylan,” she cooed.

“You’re not seriously going downtown today, are you? You just got back,” Diana exclaimed, stating the obvious. She shook her head, astonished. “Gionivanni can go screw his mistress’ ass. All the government’s money and New York could only manage one pathologist? That seriously makes you wonder where the hell our tax money goes to” she retorted.

Jordan laughed while making a vain attempt to cover Dylan’s delicate ears. “D, we’re in the presence of an underage. Let’s not make a rerun of Meet the Parents, shall we? You’d give Tina a heart attack if her child’s first attempt at speaking is flourished by vulgar words.”

Diana grinned. She cooed at Dylan who was obviously confused with Jordan’s hands covering her ears. “So, was LA fun?” she inquired. “Did you hook up with anybody?”

Jordan shrugged. “It was fine. Funny tho that I had to drag the winter jacket around and shed it off in the airport. The weather was awesome.”

“And were you deliberately ignoring the second half of the question?” Diana inquired again, this time paying full attention to Jordan’s face.

“Eh, I kinda did. Technically,” Jordan answered curtly, grinning for full measure.

“Technically?”

“Uh-huh.” Another spoon of Gerber disappeared into Dylan’s mouth. “I have a date to Cannes next month, actually,” she explained, all the while crossing her eyes for Dylan’s benefit. The toddler burst out laughing.

Diana wrinkled her forehead. “Cannes. Movie Festival Cannes? French Cannes?”

Jordan nodded. “Yes and yes.”

“No shit. What the hell did you do to get invited? Hump the ticket puncher?” exclaimed Diana, thoroughly shocked.

Jordan cringed. Her hands quickly flew to cover Dylan’s ears again. “Diana Keane!”

Diana grinned sheepishly. She tilted her head to the side and rested her arm on Jordan’s shoulder. “The Annual Meeting of Nerdy Pathologists, I understand. The Medical Festivals of Geeky Scientists and Cover-Your-Mouth-While-You-Stifle-A-Yawn Convention, I understand. But Cannes? J? Have you been doing anything I have to bail you out from?”

Jordan laughed. Dylan followed suit seeing the happiness radiating in the room. Both women took a look at the charming baby boy, and burst out laughing too.

While the laughter subsided, Diana elbowed Jordan gently, prodding the woman to continue. “Spill. I’m the one with the pigeon hall key and I didn’t see any single invitation to France in the nearest future, sonny.”

“Yeah. So? But my date’s invited. What’s the big deal?” Jordan responded.

“Did you fly off to LA to secure a date with Steven Spielberg? You’re not actually ditching the career of us normal people to be with those big-haired with even bigger egos celebrities, are you?”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

“Did Roger dump Kate or something?”

“Oh, God. No,” Jordan replied, stressing on ‘no’.

“Come on, you’re too brainy to be playing something shallow like 20 questions, J.”

“Ha ha,” Jordan snorted. She wiped a small cereal spot near Dylan’s lip with her thumb. “Roger requested as a favor for his protégé.”

“Protégé?” Diana whistled. “What big word. Since when did Roger take up a job in ‘The Apprentice’?”

Jordan laughed. “Come on, you know what I meant!”

“One of his pimps, you mean. Who?”

Jordan smirked.

“Oh my.” Diana wrinkled her nose. “You are such a teenybopper.”

“Yeah? That was your CD in the folder. And I’m the teenybopper??” Jordan asked incredulously.

Diana laughed. Baby Dylan snorted out his Gerber in an attempt to laugh with his mommy. “Stop pulling my leg, yo! The Backstreet Boys?”

Jordan sighed as she tried yet again to wipe the cereal off Dylan. Thanks Heavens for bibs. “I’m not pulling yo leg, ma. You’re the one sending me to the airport next month,” she commented, grinning goofily.

Diana fell silent. She critically eyed her roommate, detecting any signs of incoming outburst of laughter. Jordan responded with a small smile, all the while cooing at Dylan. “Leila Jordan, you’re freaking serious, aren’t you?” she asked finally.

“Uh huh,” Jordan merely nodded. “Such a good kid you are, Dylan. See, he finished the whole bottle!” she marveled, settling the bowl on the counter in order to pick Dylan up.

“I thought all of them are married, or attached, or whatever.”

Jordan shrugged. “Apparently one of them is not.”

Realization hit Diana hard on the head. Her mocha-colored eyes enlarged as no words came to mind. “You lucky, lucky bitch!”

“Diana!”

Laughter erupted again.

***

Lordy…
Jordan pulled off her reading glasses and worked on to massage her temple. All the photos and slides in her laptop look like a blob of blurry images. 3 killings, all homicides are related with similar laparatomy cut on the abdomen, precise with the same length, using the same apparatus. In all cases, it was revealed that victims lost either an organ, or part of the intestine.

3 murders in 2 months. That can’t be good.

Dude, your methods are executed by the book. Why can’t you put it into good cause and become one of us underpaid pathologists?

Maybe she’s quick to conclude that all 3 homicides share the same murderer. Maybe she’s giving the psycho too much credit. But at this point, as CSI and NYPD are hot on her ass, she can’t draw any other conclusions with such limited evidence.
Her cellphone gave a rang and she instinctively reached out for it, afraid that the shrill ringing would wake Dylan up. Private number. She arched an eyebrow questioningly. Nevertheless, she flipped the phone open. “Wakefield.”

“LJ? It’s Nick.”

Jordan was aware of her lips twitching into a smile. “Nick. To what do I owe the call?” she asked pleasantly, grateful for the distraction.

“Just to wish you Happy New Year. I didn’t know you’re back in New York.”

Jordan’s foot pushed slightly on the floor and her sliding chair rocked gently backward. Leaning into the cushion, she lifted her legs up onto the table, trying to relax her aching muscles. “Yeah. Didn’t you hear NYPD is sporting a cheapskate campaign and refuse to waste on extra human assist?”

Nick laughed. “Ouch. Don’t tell me you’re working tonight? That seriously sucks.”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “You’re telling me. Try living it.”

“I feel for you. So, does that mean no party tonight?”

“Are you kidding? I’m even babysitting tonight,” Jordan replied good-naturedly, before regretting exposing such dorky and pathetic details of her life.

“What the heck did you do to deserve such a penalty?” Nick asked teasingly.

Jordan laughed. “Nothing short of cutting up a few corpses and taking out a few organs for inspection.”

“What a way to make a guy feel entertained, LJ,” Nick replied, chuckling.

“I know, I know. My head is full with crime photos and I don’t know how to stir up a proper small talk,” Jordan replied. “I regret passing up Roger’s party. This is sure a jacked-up way to begin the new year.”

“Yeah, Roger’s been buzzing about it all morning. The guys are also disappointed they didn’t get the chance to see you.”

Tho her logics told her that Nick’s comment was one way of being polite, Jordan still felt herself grinning giddily. “Likewise here.”

“Listen, I’d like to thank you for being cool about Cannes.”

“How could I pass it up when my best friend, the most persuasive guy in the industry and one-fifth of the biggest-selling group proposed me about it?” Jordan joked, as Nick chuckled. “Besides, it’s a free trip to Europe, I’m not complaining. Tho I’m not really so hot on the prospect on being hated by half of female population as the after-effect.”

Nick laughed again. “You know that’s not true.”

“Yeah? That’s like saying George Bush is not a destroyer,” Jordan quoted.

“Even so, I’m sure they can’t find anything to hate once they get to know you. You never know the wonders of Internet in this industry.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better, Nick?”

“Or maybe you want to get some coffee together and we practice throwing darts at the paparazzi?”

“You know, coffee sounds wonderful. Let’s.”

As if on cue, the home cordless phone started blinking, signaling an incoming call. Jordan raised an eyebrow, intrigued as to who would actually be calling on New Year’s Eve. “Sorry Nick, my house phone is blinking. I should take the call,” she apologized, regretting the end of their conversation.

“No problem. Happy New Year, Leila.”

As she pushed the ‘end’ button on her cellphone, wishing wistfully the cordless didn’t start blinking, she reached for it, which was lying on the nearby sofa. “Wakefield and Keane.”

“It’s me. Listen, Tina was down in a shoot out. I’m heading to Memorial now,” came Diana’s brisk voice. She could hear the sound of Manhattan’s night traffic in the background.

Jordan gasped. She sat up straighter in her seat, obviously shocked by the incoming news. “What’s her condition?”

“I don’t know. One of the paramedics gave me a call as they saw my number in Tina’s phone book.” Diana paused. Then she cursed. “What’s a girl to do to hail down a cab in New York?!”

“Where are you?” Jordan inquired, vaguely remembering if Diana mentioned anything at all about the location of the New Year Party. She started pacing around her make-shift office, collecting her wallet and car keys from the drawer and made her way out towards the baby’s crib in the middle of the room. Baby Dylan was sleeping soundly, oblivious to the world.

“I’m at Lexington. Dude, I reckon I’d make it faster if I jog, with the New Year traffic and all,” remarked Diana wryly.

Jordan cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder, and reached inside the cot to gather Dylan into her arm. The infant stirred lightly, but as he settled comfortably into Jordan’s embrace, he dozed off back to sleep. “Alright then, jog til 59th. Should be only two blocks away from where you are. I’ll pick you up then,” said Jordan. She grabbed the baby’s rattan basket and headed for the main door.

“How about Dylan?”

Jordan looked down on the baby nestled warmly in her arms. “He’s with me,” she said lightly, feeling overprotective over the child. As they descended together in the loft’s elevator, crackling sound tickled her eardrums and she realized that she left home with the cordless still balanced between her ear and her shoulder. “Diana?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope Tina’s alright.”

They were a sight. They burst into the ER and instantly all eyes were on them. The African-American one was dressed to the nines, sporting a classy evening dress with her raven hair styled in a loose bun, bearing a rattan baby basket in her arm. The Caucasian one was obviously underdressed in her sweat pants and Princeton University sweater, holding tightly in her arm a baby boy with blond locks.

“We’re sorry. We did everything we could to save Ms. Ramirez’s life, but the bullet hit directly to the heart, which ruptured and she died on the spot.”

Jordan and Diana were speechless, aghast. Diana automatically leaned her back against the blue wall, staring off into space. Jordan was still obediently clutching the child, who was being a sweetheart and never shed a single tear despite being dragged from one place to another.

Which part of doing everything they could when she died on the spot? Jordan thought bitterly. Doctors always had a way of trying to sound so noble and liable. And she hated that part of her profession.

Dylan stifled a yawn. The simple act of yawning suddenly snapped Jordan into reality, which hit her hard in the head. Her eyes locked with Diana’s, which had the same helpless aura shining from them. She understood. Dylan, how could I possibly explain to you that you’re an orphan while barely hitting a year?

“I believe she didn’t suffer…”

“I’d like to see the body, please. And I’d like to arrange that she’d be sent for post-mortem to New York General’s morgue,” Jordan butted in firmly. She didn’t feel like listening to the doctor’s lame attempt of pep talk.

The young doctor was speechless. He recovered and looked at the chart in his hand. “Well, m’am, the only way it’s possible if we get a faxed document from the morgue with a written appeal from the next-of-kin,” he explained. “I’m sure the process won’t…”

“Will the pathologist’s signature do?”

***

The burial service took place 3 days ago. It was attended by Tina’s co-workers at Wal Mart and neighbors in the same apartment block. The whole week passed by in a blur. Starting off with arrival of Tina’s body in her morgue two days prior the funeral. She grieved and tears rolled down her cheek before lifting off the white linen masking Tina’s body. Mike, David, and a few others working in the morgue seemed to understand and left the cold operation room alone for her to reflect and work with Tina.

Diana on the other hand took a break off her photographing schedules to take care of Dylan, who didn’t seem affected by the loss. Of course, a ten-month-old child wouldn’t distinguish from the death that occurred. Everything went by smoothly; from the funeral house preparation down to the last detail of choosing the proper casket. Somehow both girls felt obliged to shower Tina with final luxury as the late Puerto Rican had never known anything of it while she was alive.

Diana smiled as Dylan gurgled with laughter as his Pooh teddy rolled on the floor. She marveled at how beautiful the baby was; according to Tina the father was half Swiss and Spanish, and that was how Dylan inherited his blond locks from. Unfortunately, the man didn’t live to witness his son’s birth as he was killed during drug trafficking.

Jordan seemed contented with Dylan settled on her abdomen. She exchanged glances with Diana. It had been a hectic week. Come Monday, both of them had to enter work again. And Dylan? Dylan was never part of their plan to begin with.

“You have that shift with Josie Maran in the afternoon, don’t you?” Jordan inquired lightly. Diana looked up from the shots she had taken the previous week and nodded slightly.

“Right. I’m doing a little grocery tonight, perhaps a stop at Kinderland after,” Jordan explained, gently massaging Dylan’s back as the toddler drifted off to sleep.

Diana diverted her attention towards Jordan. She studied her long-time housemate’s face for a while. “I’ll come,” came her short reply. Her gaze settled on the small figure resting on Jordan’s body. “You know, the boy does only have us,” she spoke softly.

“Yeah, in order for this to work, we should at least have some basic supplies, right?” Jordan replied casually.

“I’ll contact some peeps and see on the paperwork, then,” Diana said, decisively.

Jordan chuckled softly as a thought crossed her mind. “I just pray that we won’t be tagged as lesbo partners with a child in between.”

Diana laughed. “How could they when you’re practically Nick Carter’s latest pimp?” she joked.

“Ha ha,” Jordan replied dryly. She paused for a while to take a good look at the sleeping figure on her. Instantly she was granted all the reassurance that she needed to take the big step. Dylan belonged to them. The kid doesn’t deserve social service. “Oh yea, ma?”

“What’s up?”

“I’ll do the pee and you do the poop. Deal?”

***

Nick walked through the hallway of the hospital basement towards the morgue. He felt a tiny shiver running up his spine. For the 26 years of his well-lived life, that was the first time he had to take a path down the morgue. The atmosphere was chilly, contributed by the cold Manhattan weather and damp bricks surrounding him.

Two weeks had passed since his last conversation with the lady pathologist. And there’s a week away before they had to part for Cannes. For the last two weeks, he knew he had unconsciously waited for any return call after they ended their conversation hastily that New Year’s Eve.

He came to the door marked ‘NYC Morgue’, as a guy with a camera slung around his neck, bustled out. Nick stepped back, as he realized the guy could collide into him. The guy muttered a silent ‘sorry’ and sped off, leaving Nick watching his back. Eventually, the guy halted in his jog, turned around and gave a nod towards Nick. “You’re a next-of-kin?”

Nick was taken aback with the question. Then he seemed the irony of such question with the place he was currently at. He snapped out of his reverie and answered. “I’m looking for Dr. Leila Wakefield?”

The camera guy jogged back towards him, gave the door a soft kick and howled. “LJ, you’ve got a visitor!” He took a look at Nick, and nodded for him to go inside. “My best bet she’s in Room 2.” With that, he was gone again.

Nick stepped inside and was greeted with an array of metal boxed freezers which lined the grey-painted wall. On his left stood a small office, and through the glass window, he could see two guys in lab coats pacing about. No sign of the particular brunette, but he raised his hand to knock on the door anyway.

“Yeah?”

Nick paused and turned on his feet.

“Nick! What are you doing here?”

Nick felt his lips curling into a smile. Standing in front of him was the said brunette, looking at ease in a purple sweater, layered by a labcoat, with the sleeves folded up midway. Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail with a pair of glasses perched on the brim of her nose.

Hardly the glamorous look, but to him, she looked real.

***

“What brought you in town, Mr. Carter?” Jordan inquired nonchalantly as she popped a salad leaf into her mouth. Both of them had retreated for lunch at one of Jordan’s regulars. The diner was bustling with energy, packed with normal 8-5 white collared of different ages and genders.

Nick looked across the table towards his lunch companion. A fresh change from the regular bistros and chic cafes he usually frequented in LA. “Had to settle something regarding the solo project. Flew in yesterday, probably leaving tomorrow night,” he explained and took a sip of his thick espresso. “Sorry to barge in like that. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d give the hospital a try before I give up and buzz you up,” he continued, grinning sheepishly.

“Aah…” Jordan nodded. “So, have you been stalking doctors long, Mr. Carter?” she prodded, grinning.

Nick chuckled. “Eh, not really. I found out this interest to be quite fresh, actually,” he replied, smiling.

“Imagine if you entered the wrong hospital, wouldn’t it be straight out funny to be asking for a non-existent doctor? I could envision the newsflash: Backstreet Carter gone and lost it at a local hospital,” she joked.

Nick laughed out loud. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, LJ. I thought I was about to freak out walking down the cold hallway. How could you walk it every single day of your life?” he asked, smiling reverently at the lady.

“The same thing you feel every time you go up on that stage. I suck in public speaking, but excel with blood and goos. I’d say we’re even,” Jordan remarked.

Nick raised an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that? Look at you, I have to actually sweat my brain cells to match my wits with you,” Nick replied good-naturedly. Jordan laughed. They paused as the waitress approached them with their orders; salmon steak for Nick and zucchini for Jordan.

“I’d talk your ears off once I’m acquainted with you but you should have seen one of my onstage moments in high school. My knees buckled so weakly I thought I might faint or something. Stick to sports if the only thing you could muster on stage is a grin,” Jordan concluded. She took a spoonful of zucchini into her mouth.

“No way. I thought you’re more of the cheerleader kinda girl,” Nick kidded.

Jordan’s hand flew up to cover her mouth in mock shock. “Oh, did my pompoms peek out of my ass again?”

Nick laughed. His salmon was not bad at all. After all, Jordan did mention that it was the in-house delicacy. His mind reverted to the night of their phone conversation. “Oh yeah, what happened the other night? Did you have a New Year countdown at all? I thought you couldn’t wait to get rid of me, so you made up something about an incoming call,” he joked lightly.

Jordan’s expression softened at the mention of that night. She flashed a tight smile. “Which part of ‘I’d talk your ears off’ did you miss?” she replied, chuckling softly. “There was no countdown. I had to rush off to the hospital actually. A neighbor passed away,” she continued softly. Her gaze was lowered to the zucchini on her plate, afraid that her eyes would betray any emotions that were breaking through.

Nick fell silent. He gently dropped his cutleries on the plate and reached across the table to pat Jordan lightly on the arm. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” Jordan replied gently with a small smile. She appreciated the simple gesture from Nick, a sign that he was acutely sensitive to others too. “Which reminds me of something that I have to tell you about.”

Nick nodded solemnly. “Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

Jordan sighed. For the past two weeks she has completely forgotten about the little promise she made with Roger, and technically with Nick. With an extra responsibility in hand, and a changed social status, she felt obliged to alert Nick about the forthcoming consequences if she were to agree to tag along to Cannes. She drew a deep breath and started speaking. “Tina, my late neighbor, was a widow with no immediate family. She left a child, a toddler.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah, I remember you babysitting that night? Was it her child?” Nick inquired. He shook his head lightly. “What a pity to grow up as an orphan.”

“I agree,” Jordan continued. “Listen, Nick. The kid now is in our custody, Diana, my roommate and I. We appealed as the legal guardians as we couldn’t let Dylan to be taken into foster home,” she explained as Nick was listening intently. “I’m practically a mother now. I ain’t complaining, but I doubt it will go well with… well, you know,” Jordan finished, unable to find the suitable noun. She sat straighter in her seat, trying to find the confidence. “I would definitely understand if you feel like ditching the plan. You’ve got a week, plenty of time if you want to start yellow-paging for somebody else. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it totally slipped off my mind, til you came to visit today.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Nick said, holding up a hand to stop Jordan’s ongoing babbles. “Slow down, LJ.” His lips curled into a smile at the sight of Jordan’s apologetical face. How could he ditch a date with a brain and a Good Samaritan combined into one? “Where did you get all the bizarre ideas? I’m not bothered by it, LJ. Even more, I hope I could meet this Dylan.”

Jordan sat back, stunned. That was honestly not the answer she was expecting. Tight smile and polite thank you is alright, mere silence she could handle, but downright supportive? She felt like pinching herself.

***

Jordan is a normal girl. She loves dressing up on special occasions. She did own a few dresses in the wardrobe, but that was as far as dresses go. Her line of work doesn’t require for her to be dressed up fancily, plus it’d be depressing to wear a Donna Karan tulip skirt to the morgue.

Recall the mention of ‘special occasions’ above. A new dress for each occasion. The problem was, the last big occasion she attended when she splurged suicidally on a dress was 3 years ago, for her Princeton graduation.

It was getting nowhere. Jordan’s eyes darted back and forth between the empty suitcase and her equally almost-non-existent wardrobe. Her flight was less than 72 hours away, and she hadn’t even packed her underwear. Jordan felt a surge of panic. The memory of pulling out hair off the scalp during one of Neurology killer exams resurfaced. She felt that she needed help, fast.

“D!” she hollered. She knew the girl would probably be developing photos in the other room. Dylan, who was working with his first ‘match-the-shape’ game peacefully, looked up at his mama’s sudden outburst.

Diana poked her head into the room. “Down, girl. What crawled up your ass?”

Jordan plopped down on her plush bed, flustered. “I absolutely got nothing to wear,” she whined, very LJ-unlike.

“Is that really you, ma?” Diana questioned, incredulous.

“D, look at my closet. It’s as empty and bland as your chicken casseroles,” Jordan spoke, this time around with more control in her voice.

“Insulting my culinary skills ain’t gonna cut it, girl,” Diana replied. She took a seat on Jordan’s bed, with the direct view of the girl’s closet’s content. Diana shook her head and clicked her tongue. “It’s sadly true, J. Did you wardrobe catch fire or something?”

Jordan rolled her eyes and smacked Diana’s shoulder for good measures. The lady yelped. “You could at least say something constructive,” she retorted. She heaved herself off the bed and started pacing about. “I know this is far from being a world issue, but I don’t-have-a-dress-to-go-to-Cannes,” she stated, word by word. Closing her eyes momentarily, she let out an inward groan.

Diana nodded, her face grim. “Yes, earth-shattering indeed.”

“D!”

Diana flashed a sheepish grin. She stood up and walked towards the spacious yet barely-filled wardrobe. Pausing for awhile in front of the array of clothes, she tucked a hand at her waist and shook her head in disdain, to further annoy Jordan. “This is sad, ma. I’m the photographer of national’s best-selling fashion magazine, and yet my housemate is the reason Dolce & Gabbana cry bloody tears.” She tsk-tsked for good measure.

“How tactful of you,” Jordan replied sarcastically. She folded her arms in front of her chest, feeling defensive.

“However, I take it as my personal obligation to bring you into the light,” Diana announced decisively.

“What are you, Dalai Lama?”

Diana raised an eyebrow at the attitude. “Or you could always wear your prom dress,” she prompted, sort of giving an ultimatum.

“You suck.”

Diana burst out laughing. She slung an arm around her roommate’s shoulder. “Listen. Josie was wearing this royal green one-shoulder thing from Emma Somerset, I thought it’d look swanky on my brunette roommate,” she explained.

Jordan wrinkled her nose. “How sure are you I won’t look like a recycle bin with legs and arms?”

Rolling her eyes, Diana smacked her forehead, weary. “And risk my career once the media finds out we happen to live under the same roof? No, thanks.”

Jordan fell silent. She gave a sideway glance to Diana, who was anxiously waiting for her decision. “How destitute will that thing leave me?” she asked cautiously. “I mean, something your stick-thin models wear on the photoshoot must at least cost a kidney or a pancreas, right?”

Diana gagged. “Gross.” Then her lips curled into a smile. “Ya know, that early birthday gift you’ve been bugging me about?”

Jordan narrowed her eyes curiously. “Yeah?”

“Yup, so don’t forget to mention my name when those people lining the red carpet shove a mic into your face.”

Jordan gave a squeal. She freaking squealed, but she hardly cared on how that would totally bash the ‘laidback’ image she took so long to build. She threw her arms around Diana and hugged her friend in a tight embrace. “Oh, thank you! I so heart you right now! I’d do Dylan’s poop for a month, I swear!” she gushed.

Diana laughed. “Fair enough with the dent I’m going to have in my bank account,” she commented. “Ya know, I always thought you’d end up with one of the mortuary geeks you deal with every day. But Blondie pop star? You’d betta recognize!”

“It’s one, purely-professional date, D. Very righteously innocent. There’s no way he’s jumping me, and I’ll try my best not to jump him,” Jordan replied, grinning impishly. “C’mon, I’ll assure you I won’t be needing any reality-check vaccination soon.”

Diana smiled. “You know how many women would kill to be in your flip-flops right now?”

Jordan flashed another grin. “You tell me.”

Diana shook her head, grinning at her friend’s cheesy statement of staying real. She then pulled the other girl’s hand towards the door, pausing to retrieve Jordan’s purse on the bedside table. “Let’s go. You need pimpin, woman.”

“You don’t have to freak out. It’s a suite and it really has two bedrooms,” Nick explained as he pushed the heavy door opened. “Voila.”

Jordan rolled her eyed good naturedly. “Nick, I used to share a bathroom with two older brothers. I’m cool.”

Nick grinned as he placed their suitcases on the floor. After tipping the bellboy, he closed the door behind him. In the living room, Jordan pirouetted to assess the suite. She let out a low whistle. “The last time I was in Cannes we crashed in the youth hostel. This is seriously a flip of coin,” she marveled.

“I know, I’m still overwhelmed by it myself. Come on, let’s check out the bedrooms,” Nick urged. Soon both of them bounded down the hallway towards the master bedroom. “Since you’re so cool with hopping on the plane, crossing several oceans in the process, just to make me look less like a loser, the master bedroom is all yours,” Nick declared, smiling.

Jordan tilted her head to the side, looking at Nick in awe. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. Let’s unpack and catch some nap. Tonight is gonna be a long night.”

Later that evening.

“LJ?”

“Yeah?”

“What on earth are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Jordan pulled her lower eyelid and brought her right index finger closer to her eye. The tip of the finger eventually touched her eyeball, and she proceeded on with blinking. “I’m wearing my contacts. You wouldn’t want me bugging you asking what the heck’s happening on the stage the entire night, would you?”

Nick shuddered. “Uh, I think I stick to glasses for now,” he concluded.

Jordan laughed. She walked towards Nick who was standing at the doorway. “What’s up?”

“Oh yeah.” Nick grinned. He lifted his hands and produced a necktie and a bowtie, both in the color of forest green. “Michael Douglas or Ben Affleck? Or Kevin Bacon?”

Jordan wrinkled her forehead. She rested her hands on her hips, contemplating on either article. “You’re too blond for Kevin Bacon, plus it is a formal affair, so no to the sexy open-chest look,” she formulated.

Nick frowned. “Too blond? Do you really wanna get your ass romped, Wakefield?”

Grinning, she patted Nick’s shoulder playfully. “I meant it in a good way, trust me.” She tapped her chin, scrutinizing. “I’d say Ben Affleck. Bowties kinda remind me of the undertakers.”

“Thanks, J. That’s really helpful,” Nick said dryly.

Jordan shrugged. “I do deal with a lot of them, remember?”

Nick chuckled. He lifted the necktie and flagged it in the air. “So Ben Affleck it is.” He then gave Jordan a curious once-over. “And how come you’re still in your bathrobe?”

“And how come you’re still in your boxers?” Jordan counter-attacked.

“I’d only take 10 minutes to be ready. However, unlike you women…” Nick paused as he noticed the look given by Jordan. He grinned smugly.

“Yeah? Let’s see who’s gonna be down to the lobby first.”

30-minutes or so later.

Nick descended the stairs down to the grand lobby slowly, feeling satisfied that he had beaten Jordan in their little race. He spotted Howie, who was chatting with a man in a white suit by the fountain. He figured the others were still getting ready, so he made his way to the black leather sofa to wait for Jordan.

“You’re late.”

Nick turned 360˚ on his heels. “You’re the one who’s…” He paused, momentarily speechless at the sight greeting him.

“I was down here since 5 minutes ago,” Jordan claimed. She gave him a little smile, then frowned when her gaze settled on Nick’s tie. “That’s a little crooked. Here, let me.” She reached forward and fiddled gently with the knotted tie.

“How…?”

“I was a quick changer in the Great Ohio Circus,” Jordan replied, still fiddling with the tie. She raised her gaze, saw the skeptical look given by Nick and grinned. “Kidding. I had my make up on by the time you came to my room. Dress was 5 minutes, hair was a little tedious though, and the rest took all in I believe, around 25 minutes.” She smoothed the little wrinkle at the edge of Nick’s green silk shirt. “There ya go.”

Nick smiled in awe. He shook his head slightly, marveling at the sight in front of him. “You have always been an eye catcher on daily bases, but tonight, you look incredible,” Nick declared.

“So I jazz up pretty good?” Jordan asked, smiling.

Nick assessed her whole 5 foot 8 figure. The dress exposed her left creamy shoulder, clung on the right places, and flared gracefully down her heels. Small rhinestones decorated the bodice of the dress, giving it a glittering look. Her hair, which was up in a ponytail, secured by a clip with a rhinestones-studded butterfly brooch. A few tendrils of loose hair were tucked behind her ears, and her look was perfected by a simple choker.

“Well?”

“Simply amazing,” Nick concluded, smiling.

Jordan returned the smile. “You cleaned up pretty good yourself, Carter.”

“Heya, Lovebirds!” AJ greeted chirpily. He slung his arms around both Nick’s and Jordan’s shoulder. Frowning, he narrowed his eyes at Jordan. “Girl, did you grow over the flight journey?”

Jordan grinned. “Must be the heels.”

AJ shook his head disapprovingly at the covered-toe velvet stilettos slipped on Jordan’s feet. “Those are men’s worst invention for vertically-challenged guys like me. Now all you pretty little things are gonna tower above me,” he complained.

“J, they always tower above you, with or without shoes,” Nick commented. Jordan laughed.

AJ rolled his eyes. He gave Jordan a once-over and let out a low whistle. “Yo, ma. You look excellent enough to eat.”

“Thanks, I guess” Jordan replied, grinning.

“And look, green-galore. You’re practically soul mates now?” AJ inquired, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Nick rolled his eyes and smacked AJ’s chest. “Now, instead of hogging my date, don’t you have your own to entertain?”

“Look, it’s barely been a day and he’s being all possessive. Don’t forget to lock your bedroom door tonight, Jordan. You might never know who would sneak in,” he spoke, winking at Jordan.

“AJ!”

***

Her phone rang and Jordan quickly searched for it in her small velvet pouch. She was in the restroom of the ball banquet, and she lost count of how many famous faces she saw. “Wakefield.”

“It’s me, Viv. Can you talk?”

Jordan surveyed her surroundings and she didn’t think the likes of Sandra Bullock and Kate Beckinsale were going to eavesdrop on her. “Shoot. What’s up?”

“Thank God. Look, I know you’re off for the week, I did the DNA test and Burt ran your guy on AFIS and we got a match.”

Jordan raised an eyebrow. “I thought his fingers were goners, man.”

“Yeah, but Burt reconstructed the prints and we got a match,” Viv continued.

Jordan clicked her tongue in awe. “I don’t know how the hell he pulled that one, but that bastard is a genius. So, he matched AFIS. Any leads?”

“Your guy was a Marie Elizabeth Woods.”

“What?” she said, pulling the cellphone away from her ear. She stared at it for a few moments before bringing it back to her auricle. “You went static on me. Run that by me once again.”

“J, your guy was a true hermaphrodite. The DNA test came out with two X chromosomes and 2 Barr bodies. She, or he, whichever your preference, was born here in New York and 24 years later, Marie Elizabeth became Thomas Woods.”

Jordan was speechless. “But I did him! He had a willy and two perfectly-descended testicles!” she rebutted, lowering her tone at the controversial words. To no avail, she still attracted the attention of a woman on the next sink. The woman gave her a distasteful look and she muttered a curt apology.

“Yeah, I was guessing it’s Las Vegas. Or maybe Amsterdam. Hell of a job,” Viv replied. Then she chuckled. “Is there such thing as donating your prostates?” she joked.

“Hell if I know,” Jordan answered. She left the restroom to avoid further embarrassment. “So, Marie, or Thomas, or whatever. Why was he up in AFIS in the first place?” she questioned. Her eyes surveyed the hallway and she retreated to a concealed balcony.

“Thomas Woods. Charge of battery, July 2005. He was definitely an aggressive one, considering the domineering androgen and everything.”

“Yeah, too bad the Butcher got the best of him,” Jordan spoke dryly.

“Another victim, and we’ve got ourselves a serial.”

Jordan chuckled. “You sounded like you’re actually looking forward to it.”

“Well, I’m not exactly 10000 miles away in Cannes, having the time of my life. I need all the excitement I could get,” Viv joked. “Sorry to interrupt your mingling with Julia Roberts or whoever, I just thought you might wanna know.”

“Uh huh. A lady looked at me as if I had grown an extra head on my ass when I mentioned the word ‘testicles’ in the toilet.”

Viv laughed. “No way.”

“Serious way,” Jordan relayed, chuckling to herself. She caught the sight of Nick, chattering away with Kevin and a lady who might look like Diane Keaton. Nick lifted his glance and their eyes met. He waved at her.

“Alright J. Don’t forget to buy me a miniature Eiffel keychain.”

***

“Did you have to queue for the restroom or something?” Nick leaned down to whisper to her as he slid an arm around her waist.

Jordan grinned. “No, I got a call from my colleague.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, smirking. “The all-time workaholic. Can’t they leave you alone for at least a week?”

Kevin, who was having a conversation with Diane Keaton, looked up. “Jordan, honey, you look fantastic,” he praised, letting his eyes appreciate the view. “Jordan, this is Diane Keaton. Diane, meet Jordan Wakefield.”

Jordan smiled and offered a hand politely. They exchanged a brief handshake. She tried hard to suppress the teenybopper in her. “Mrs. Keaton, I love all your movies. Especially the one with Jack Nicholson, ‘Something’s Gotta Give.”

Nick gasped in mock horror. “Oh my God, J! You actually had time to watch movies?”

Jordan swatted Nick’s arm playfully. “Contrary to popular beliefs, I do have a life, or a minor part of it.

Diane laughed. “You poor one. What is your line of profession, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m a pathologist, where no potential or whatsoever of being in 10-foot radius with Keanu Reeves,” Jordan replied, grinning.

The older lady gasped. “Oh my!” She placed a hand on her chest, obviously shocked. “You could be gracing the front cover of ‘Elle’, but look at you!” She shook her head slightly, amazed. “You must be one heck of a brave lady.”

“My life is the epitome of boring,” Jordan replied, smiling. “Yours, however, is full of excitement. I read your play, ‘Rendezvous’. It was superb.”

“Thank you, hun,” Diane spoke. She was greeted by another familiar face who Jordan couldn’t exactly pinpoint. “Oh, sorry kiddies. This old bugger needs to talk.” She smiled to Jordan. “Maybe we could have breakfast together tomorrow, Jordan?”

After she was gone, Jordan beamed. “She remembered my name!”

Kevin and Nick chuckled. “That was awesome, J. I didn’t even know she wrote a play,” Nick remarked.

“How would you when your reading material only centers on DC comics and FHM,” Kevin teased. They all shared a laugh, as Kristen joined them. She gave her husband a quick peck on the cheek.

“Jordan, babe. Let’s go grab a seat before these folks go up there and perform,” she notified, already grabbing Jordan’s arm. “Good luck, sweetie. Me and the girls will be in the G foyer.”

“Wait!” Nick called. “Aren’t you going to say good luck to your date, LJ?” he asked, grinning mischievously.

Jordan rolled her eyes. She tiptoed and planted a soft kiss on Nick’s cheek. He smiled. “Now, go do your thang, Carter!”

***

She was awed. To the point that she’d give a written confession about being smitten after the first gig. It was something like falling in love at first sight.

She had a fair share of live music during her college years. Despite the long hours in medical school, she still managed to attend gigs and concerts every time any good rock and Indie bands hit New Jersey. Although she was fairly acquainted with the guys, thanks to Diana, she was never much into pop music.

They were soulful. They were melodious. They were easy to the ears and definitely a big-banquet thing. She could immediately see why these guys were chosen to perform at such a high-profiled gala like Cannes.

“They are excellent, aren’t they?”

Jordan lifted her gaze off the stage and turned her head to the right. There sitting in the dark was a man in mid 50s, wearing a double-breasted suit with a black bow tie. Jordan’s lips curved into a smile. “Yes, they are,” she replied.

“I see that your eyes haven’t left the stage since they started singing 7 minutes ago,” the man remarked. He gave her a grin.

Jordan suppressed a laugh and chuckled instead. “Did they really?”

The man smiled again. “I saw you earlier with one of them. I take it you two came together?”

“Yes, we did,” Jordan admitted, flashing yet another smile.

“I’m John Garcia.” He extended a hand.

They shook hands briefly. After a short introduction, Jordan learned that Garcia was a businessman from Los Angeles. They began a conversation centering on the guys and Cannes. They were chatting amiably when Jordan felt a tap on her shoulder from behind the row of seats. She raised her head and saw Nick smiling down on her.

“Hey, you were awesome!” she greeted him.

Nick smiled as he rounded the row and took a seat next to Jordan in the foyer. “Thank you. Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, yes,” Jordan said. She turned her head to the seat next to her. “Mr. Garcia… Where is he?” She craned her neck to the next empty seat and the back row. The man was gone.

“Who?”

Jordan fell silent. Weird. She shrugged her shoulders offhandedly. “Mr. Garcia from LA. I turned away for 20 seconds and he was gone. I didn’t know I was that boring.”

Nick laughed. “Aww. Don’t feel bad, J.”

Jordan smacked Nick’s arm. Then she broke into a grin. “I have a confession to make.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Yeah, what’s that?”

“I think I’m officially a fan now,” Jordan admitted, laughing softly at feeling so school-girly. “Now I have a reason to load my iPod with boyband music,” she added, grinning mischievously.

“Boyband? Have you been listening to NSync or what?” Nick interjected, shaking his head, appearing disapproval.

Jordan laughed. Maybe she was not really an avid fan of TRL, but one would have to be a total demented to miss the riff between the two biggest groups in pop.

“So, have you been enjoying yourself so far?”

“Catching a glimpse of Spielberg, Jude Law, Keira Knightley, Julia Roberts is indeed getting old fast,” Jordan replied sarcastically. “Are you kidding? Tonight is probably one of my best ever!” she burst out. A moment later her voice dropped to a less-excited tone. “Opps, didn’t mean to sound so passé. A girl can only contain so much.”

Nick laughed. “I know! As I walked down the aisle I shook hands with Robert De Niro. I’m not gonna wash my hand for a really long time,” he concluded.

“That’s disgusting, Nick,” Jordan gagged. Suddenly the crowd died down as the light was dimmed again. A wave of hushed whispers arose again. “It’s a screening, isn’t it?” Jordan inquired curiously. The hotel had handed them a bunch of brochures after checking in, containing all the information regarding the Festival, the screening schedule, and after parties. But both of them were too drained to actually read any of it, and the brochures are just a bunch on papers on the bedside table.

Jordan could make out Nick’s head nodding in the dark. “I think it’s the Da Vinci Code. I heard somebody whispered somewhere,” he replied. “Man, I can’t wait!”

Jordan’s interest peaked. “Seriously? Damn. I thought I have to fight for the DVD at Blockbuster next week or something. Wait til Diana hears this. She and I live in the same apartment but we have our separate hardcovers on the shelf.”

“You read it too?” Nick questioned, thrilled to finally find a mutual enthusiast.

“I was up all night deciphering ‘Oh lame saint’. I think the word ‘read’ didn’t really justify it,” Jordan replied. “I’m a dork, I know.”

Nick grinned, his pearly white teeth glowing in the dark. “I worked it out in 3 hours.”

“No way.”

“Uh huh, doctor. I might not attend Harvard, but anagrams are a piece of cake for me.”

Jordan laughed lowly again. “Show off!”

And so they sat back to watch as the most-talked movie of the year made its debut onscreen.