InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 6: Shameless ❯ Welcome to Mexico ( Chapter 2 )

~~Chapter 2~~

~Welcome to Mexico~

 

Gavin rolled his eyes but smiled as Jillian snatched the bag out of his hand and grabbed the wax-paper wrapped sandwich. He caught the bag still containing her french-fries before it slipped from her grasp, chuckling softly as she bit into the sandwich with a loud moan of pleasure. Eyes fluttering closed with a glob of ketchup and mayonnaise trailing from the corner of her mouth, the girl looked like she was bordering on ecstasy—rather disconcerting to him since he was way too familiar with that particular expression . . . It normally followed Jillian's inexplicable knack for talking Gavin into things that would otherwise go against his better judgment.

 

Digging a napkin out of the bag, he caught the disapproving glower of the photographer and the rest of the staff. He wiped her face gently and tried to ignore them since they obviously didn't bother Jillian in the least. “Thank you, Gavvie,” she mumbled around a mouthful of cheeseburger. “This is so-o-o good . . . Want a bite?”

 

Leaning back when Jillian stuck the sandwich under his nose, Gavin chuckled again and shook his head. “No, thanks.”

 

“Shake!” she demanded, swallowing the food and waving her sandwich toward the Styrofoam cup in his hand.

 

“Here,” he said, hooking the straw with his index finger to tip it toward her. She stooped over, catching the straw and sucking hard to draw the thick, frothy chocolate shake through the straw. “Oh, that's really good!” she approved with a mischievous little grin. “I'm going to give myself a headache trying to drink it through that, though.”

 

Gavin sighed and popped the lid off. Jillian grabbed it and giggled as she tipped the drink to her lips. “I don't think your photographer-friend likes this,” Gavin muttered.

 

Jillian rolled her eyes and handed the cup back, licking the milkshake mustache away with the tip of her little pink tongue. “That's what they get for starving me . . . honestly, Gavvie, if you hadn't come, I swear I would have died!”

 

He rolled his eyes but played along, knowing Jillian's penchant for the uber-dramatics just a little too well. “Died? Well, I suppose that would have been bad . . . your fries are getting cold.”

 

Jillian uttered a little noise as she nodded quickly at the bag. He set the shake on the caterer's table and fished out a couple fries. Jillian leaned forward, neatly snagging the food out of his fingers. Gavin grimaced and pulled his hand back. “Leave some meat, will you?” he teased.

 

“I iddn ite oo,” she mumbled.

 

“You almost did . . . you sure you're not a piggy-youkai instead of a water-youkai?”

 

She wrinkled her nose and bit into the cheeseburger again. “Hush, doggie,” she mumbled around a mouthful of cheeseburger.

 

Gavin chuckled and fed her another french-fry. “Jilli, you're a mess . . .”

 

Jillian leaned back and glanced down, grimacing as a glob of mayonnaise, ketchup, and pickle juice dripped from the sandwich and ran down the cleft between her breasts. She shrugged, digging into the bag for another handful of fries while Gavin shook his head and grinned.

 

“You're not going to clean that up?”

 

She wrinkled her nose. “I'll just let Jay do it. He hates the shine, you know.”

 

That earned her a marked scowl as Gavin fished another napkin out of the bag. “Jay can keep his damn hands away from your breasts, Jilli,” he grumbled, cheeks pinking as he carefully blotted the mess away.

 

“You missed some,” she remarked carelessly.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“You've got to dig for it, Gavvie . . . it's smeared all down between my boobs.”

 

Gavin choked and sputtered indignantly. “Jilli! I c-can't—What are—?”

 

It was too late. Thrusting the sandwich into his empty hand, Jillian reached behind her neck and tugged at the little string that held the bikini top in place. It fell away only to catch on her breasts, but a single tug later accompanied by the harsh sound akin to Velcro being pulled apart, her breasts sprang free, bobbing up and down for a moment as Jillian nabbed the napkin and finished wiping herself clean.

 

Gavin's head snapped to the side, inadvertently meeting the inconsolable gaze of Hans the photographer, who looked like he was about to cry. Gavin narrowed a formidable glower at the man who blinked in surprise then rolled his eyes in an exaggerated show of impatience before turning his head to the side with a pronounced sigh. “Is he—you know . . .?” Gavin growled under his breath, more to himself than to Jillian.

 

“Hmm? Oh, gay, you mean? Yeah, I think they all are . . . Hans . . . Justin . . . Jay-Jay . . . They'd be happier if you dropped your top, Gavvie!”

 

He grimaced. “Put those away, will you? And why do you have tape on your . . . breasts?”

 

She rolled her eyes and quickly tied the bikini behind her neck once more. “Why else, silly? To keep them from popping out!”

 

He groaned as Jillian made quick work of the rest of her food. “I'll be back,” she promised, rising up on tip-toe to kiss Gavin's cheek. “Just going to go brush my teeth really quick. Don't miss me too much!”

 

He watched her go with a frown. She seemed fine, didn't she? She always seemed fine. Full of smiles and laughter, Jillian was a law unto herself. Still, there were times when he'd noticed that her smile seemed a little strained, a little forced. She really didn't like it; not at all . . .

 

“Why would you want to be a model?” he'd asked her one time just after he'd moved to New York City—after he'd given up hope of ever seeing her again. She lived in the city. Her mother had told him as much. He'd told himself that it was enough to stay near her in case she should ever need him, but . . .

 

Seeing her pictures plastered all over subways; all over bus stops and billboards . . . the same girl he'd always known had been buffed and polished and shone like a star in the darkest night. He'd taken a job in Detroit after graduating from the University of Maine. He hadn't understood why she'd walked out of his life during his senior year of college. She just stopped showing up on weekends, and he hadn't been able to get any real answers out of her family. He hadn't realized back then that she'd moved to New York City, opting to finish high school via the internet while living with her brother, Evan and embarking on her mission to become one of the most recognizable faces in the world . . .

 

He'd never forget that day, though. It was raining—pouring actually—and Gavin, as usual, hadn't bothered to grab an umbrella despite the dire predictions of torrential rain and slate gray skies that morning. He'd walked the thirty blocks to his apartment only to find Jillian huddled on the steps outside the building. Clad in a pair of faded jeans and an old University of Maine t-shirt that he recognized as having once belonged to him, she didn't look at all like a supermodel. She looked like the girl he'd always known.

 

She didn't return his smile as she awkwardly got to her feet. Wringing her hands in a decidedly nervous fashion, she bit her lip and brushed her sodden bangs out of her face. It hadn't surprised him that the girl hadn't bothered to grab an umbrella, either. She was a water-youkai, after all, and natural water—rain, lakes, ponds, oceans—was something she craved. “I-I was just passing by,” she lied. She was much too wet to have just gotten there. Gavin smiled tentatively, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I thought . . . it was nice to see you again,” she muttered.

 

He caught her arm as she started to hurry past. She shot him a nervous glance bringing to mind a deer caught in the headlights. “W-wait!” he blurted, trying to repress the surge of panic at the idea of letting her slip away again. “I was going to dry off and grab some dinner . . . you still like cheeseburgers?”

 

A reluctant smile finally surfaced, illuminating her gaze with a brilliant sheen of happiness. “You remembered?”

 

He shuffled his feet, feeling unaccountably flustered by her softly uttered question. “Of course I remembered,” he mumbled. “How `bout it? My treat?”

 

Her smile had widened, and she'd nodded. They'd been together ever since. He'd asked her why she'd wanted to become a model that night at dinner. She'd grinned and shrugged. “It's the only thing I'm good at,” she replied simply.

 

“That's not true,” he countered.

 

Jillian laughed and reached across the table, patting his hand as though she were consoling a child. “It's okay, Gavvie. I know my limitations. I'm not smart like Bassie or Evan, and modeling isn't really so bad.”

 

He let it go at that, unwilling to upset her by pointing out that she was every bit as smart as her brothers; just in an entirely different way.

 

“Hey, you—lover boy.”

 

Gavin snapped out of his reverie and blinked, gaze shifting to the side, stifling the desire to growl at the little photographer who was speaking to him as though Gavin was way below him on the food chain. “Pardon?”

 

The photographer—Jillian had called him `Hans Something-Or-Other'—spared a moment, deliberately staring Gavin up and down before thoughtfully scratching his chin with his pinky finger extended up and out. “You need to stay out of the way, hmm? We're on a very tight schedule—” He pronounced the word `shed-yule', “—and you're nothing but a distraction to our little Jilli.”

 

Smothering another low growl at the much-too-personal use of the nickname that Gavin felt should be reserved for family and close friends, he pasted on a tolerant smile and crossed his meaty arms over his chest. “I'd never dream of getting in the way,” he quipped. “Wouldn't want to interrupt your . . . `shed-yule'.”

 

Hans smiled rather tolerantly, leaning toward Gavin close enough to whisper as he stared off toward the trailer where Jillian had gone to brush her teeth. “This is supposed to be a closed shoot,” he admitted. “Since Jilli seems to like you, I'll let you stay. Just don't distract her, if you would be so kind . . . You've already delayed the shoot, you understand, and we simply must stay on track since tomorrow is the day.”

 

Gavin scowled at the little photographer and shook his head. “The day? What's that mean?”

 

Hans twittered out a grating laugh, waving a hand in front of his face as though Gavin had just told a really great joke. “You don't know? The day! The day! Coventry Jewelers is loaning us the diamond and platinum bikini . . . they want Jilli to be their diamond girl!” He heaved a sigh, his leathery tanned skin taking on a pinkish glow. “You probably won't be allowed on-site,” he mused. “Security, you know . . .”

 

Gavin returned the insincere little smile and shrugged. “We'll see.”

 

The door on the tiny white trailer opened, and Jillian stepped back outside. Pausing a moment to slip her finger along the back of the string bikini to adjust it, she wandered toward Gavin. “It shouldn't take long,” she assured him, slinging her arms around his neck and giving him a squeeze. “I'm so glad you're here!”

 

He blinked and stared, struck yet again by just how beautiful the water-youkai really was. “Me, too, Jilli.”

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Jillian pushed Gavin into the hotel room and kicked the door closed, dropping her duffle bag on the floor and arched her back, knitting her fingers together and pushing her hands up over her head in a lethargic stretch. “Sorry that took so long,” she apologized, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

 

Gavin smiled. “It's okay,” he assured her. “It's your job.”

 

Jillian made a face and fluttered her hand dismissively. “Let me go wash off all this makeup,” she told him as she grabbed her bag and headed toward the master suite. “Then we can go get some dinner.”

 

Gavin sat on the sofa and nodded. “Okay. I'm going to check my email.”

 

Sparing a moment to wiggle her fingers at him, she hurried off to put her things away and grab a quick shower.

 

It only took him a few minutes to set up his laptop. Sure, he was on vacation, but he'd assured his boss that he'd check his email every day in case they needed him. Marcus, his boss, had laughed at him and told him to have a good time. Still, given that he hadn't taken any of his vacation time in the six years that he'd worked there, Gavin just wasn't good at being `away'.

 

The only email he had was from his mother, Natalie. It was the same stuff as always: when was he coming home to visit? Was he dating anyone yet? Was he taking care of himself? Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera . . . Heaving a sigh, he snapped the lid closed, sending the machine into standby mode.

 

Jillian's laptop sat on the table. Out of habit, he leaned to the side, pulling the computer over and opening it up. Drumming his fingertips on his knee as he waited for it to boot, he shook his head. It took entirely too long to start up. He hadn't gotten around to running any of the crucial programs to make sure that it stayed running well. Normally he ran all the scans and such on a weekly basis, but with Jillian's insane schedule and the overtime he'd been putting in lately at work, he hadn't really had the time to do it. Maybe he could talk Jillian into ordering room service. Scowling as he looked at her diagnostic files, he sighed again. From the looks of things, it might take him a few hours to fix her computer this time . . .

 

Starting up the spyware scan, Gavin scratched the back of his neck. The only reason Jillian had a computer was so that she could check her email, though he had made the mistake of teaching the girl how to use ASA, a popular chat program. She loved to chat with her mother back home in Maine, and there had been a few times that she had tried to commandeer Gavin's computer so that she could stay in touch.

 

Jillian padded out of the master bedroom suite, toweling her hair dry with one hand and carrying a jar of something or other in the other one. The little peach satin robe she wore barely covered her, and he knew from past experience that she was very likely quite naked underneath it all.

 

“When's the last time you defragged your hard drive?” Gavin asked, refusing to spare more than a cursory glance at the girl.

 

She flopped down on the sofa, kicking her feet up and nudging his arm aside so that she could stretch her legs out over him. “Defragged my hard drive?” she quipped. “Sounds completely sexual, Gavvie.”

 

She giggled when he blushed. He couldn't help himself. She had a horrible habit of saying things designed to embarrass him. She'd done it for years. “It's not,” he grumbled, trying to hide his discomfort behind a brusque tone; a clipped voice. “I've told you, Jillian; you have to run these programs regularly if you want your computer to operate smoothly.”

 

“I thought you set them up to run automatically,” she reminded him, unscrewing the lid off the jar and digging out a glob of thick cream.

 

“Yes, well, the programs will only run at their scheduled times if you have the computer turned on,” he remarked dryly.

 

“But you said not to leave the computer on if I'm not going to use it every day,” she reminded him as she pushed the robe open and applied the cream to her reddened breasts. Irritated from the tape she'd used to keep herself from falling out of her bikini during the photo shoot, she moaned softly as the cream offered her a modicum of relief from the inflamed skin.

 

Gavin saw all of it out of the corner of his eye. Refraining from commenting about the downside of her vocation since it never failed to upset her, he finished off the spyware scan and started up a virus scan. “I could order room service,” he offered, frowning at the computer screen.

 

“Aww, but I wanted to go out for dinner . . . I've eaten here—alone—every night this week. Come on, Gavvie . . . you're on vacation, right?”

 

He grunted in reply. “Sure . . . I wanted to get your computer working right again, though.”

 

“It's fine,” she argued. “Anyway, I've been dying to try out some local cuisine all day. Your stomach up for it?”

 

He smiled. “Maybe.”

 

She worked the cream into her breasts before starting in on her legs. “The air here's been so dry. I feel like a snake.”

 

“That bad?”

 

With a nod, she shot him an impish smile. “Yes. Wanna cop a feel?”

 

Gavin leaned back when Jillian stuck her leg under his nose. “Come on, Jilli. I thought you were hungry,” he mumbled, gently but firmly pushing her leg aside. Rising to his feet, he strode over to the windows, staring out over the busy city of Cancun.

 

“Okay,” she relented with a melodramatic sigh. “Fine, fine . . .” Tightening the belt of her robe, she wandered over to stand beside him. “So you never did tell me . . . Marcus didn't give you any trouble about taking some time off, did he?”

 

“Marcus? Are you kidding? As soon as I told him that it was for you, he couldn't get rid of me fast enough.”

 

Jillian beamed, her eyes sparkling with happiness as she giggled softly and clapped her hands. “Such a nice man,” she cooed. “Remind me to send him a fruit basket when we get back to New York.”

 

Gavin rolled his eyes but chuckled. As charming as Jillian could be, he had his doubts that his boss had taken her feelings into consideration when granting Gavin the time off. No, it was Jillian's family he was thinking of. After all, if it made one of the doted-upon daughters of the North American tai-youkai happy, then it stood to reason that it would make Cain Zelig happy, too. Marcus—a kitsune—was probably glad of the opportunity to do `a favor' for one of the Zelig's family members. “I'll write that down,” he assured her.

 

Fluttering a hand at the base of her throat, she giggled, but the sound was cut short as her smile faded only to be replaced by a sense of alarm—eyes wide, nostrils flaring—as she patted her throat with a strangled cry. “Oh, no!”

 

“What?” he asked, shaking his head in confusion. “Jilli?”

 

Jillian's pale blue eyes filled with inexplicable tears. “No, no, no, no, no!” she whimpered, dropping to her hands and knees as she scanned the area under the sofa; under the coffee table. “No . . .”

 

“Jillian, what's wrong?” he asked, hurrying over to her and grabbing her by the shoulders. “Did you lose something?”

 

She nodded miserably, sniffling as she shot him a worried glance, almost as though she expected him to be angry. “I had it! I swear I had it! I had it this morning . . .”

 

“Had . . . what?”

 

“My butterfly!” she wailed.

 

It took a few moments for Gavin to grasp what it was she'd apparently lost. He'd given her a cheap gold necklace with a ten-carat gold filigree butterfly pendant years ago for her Sweet Sixteenth birthday. He hadn't realized she still had it. He hadn't really noticed that she still wore it. “That old thing? You still have it?”

 

His questions only worsened her upset. It'd been his experience that most women didn't cry gracefully. Blotchy skin, swollen, reddened noses . . . Jillian, however, wasn't most women. `Damn it . . .' Grimacing as he rubbed his face, he sat back on his haunches and pulled Jillian into a firm hug. “Calm down, Jilli . . . I'll go look for it, okay? That chain was really thin . . . maybe it broke while you were sleeping.”

 

She sniffled and shook her head, wiping her eyes as she tried to stop crying. “I had it this morning,” she insisted. “I touch it every morning because it reminds me of you.”

 

“Okay, okay,” he agreed quickly—anything to keep her from crying again. “Let me go look for it.”

 

She nodded as more tears sprung to her eyes again. Gavin let got of her and strode off toward the master bedroom. Pulling all the blankets off the king size bed, he sighed. He hadn't figured it'd be there. Housekeeping had probably been in and out of the suite today, so even if it had been there, it had probably been removed with the old linens—if the maid hadn't found and pocketed it . . .

 

He winced. `No, best not to consider that one,' he thought with an inward sigh. Trouble was, she'd been out today, too. There was a chance, he supposed, that she'd lost it in her changing trailer. If that were the case, then it might still be there. “Jilli?” he called as he walked out of the bedroom. “Did you have it at the shoot?”

 

Her eyebrows knitted together as she considered his question. “No,” she said slowly. “I don't think I did . . . I don't remember Hans reminding me to remove it, and I know I didn't take it off, myself . . .” Blue eyes lifted to meet his, full of hope, of unfaltering belief that Gavin could do just about anything—the same sort of look she'd given him for years whenever she needed him . . . “You'll find it, right, Gavvie? You'll try?”

 

Gavin winced and heaved a sigh. He wasn't entirely sure he could find it. Still, the expression on her face—the hope in her gaze—he loved the feeling it gave him deep down. “I'll try,” he promised. “Maybe someone found it and turned it in. I'll go down to the front desk and ask. Why don't you get dressed? You said you were hungry, right?”

 

She sniffled again but nodded. “Okay,” she agreed. “Okay.”

 

Stepping out of the room, he took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. He doubted that anyone actually turned in the necklace. Still he had to try . . .

 

“Excuse me,” Gavin said to the young man behind the front desk.

 

“Can I help you, sir?” he asked, his English heavily masked in a thick Mexican accent.

 

“I hope so . . . My friend—Jillian Zelig—lost a necklace this morning: a little butterfly on a gold chain? I was wondering if someone might have turned it in.”

 

The young man nodded and hurried over to check the vault behind the desk. He came back a few minutes later, shaking his head apologetically. “No necklace—no butterfly.”

 

Gavin nodded. “Yeah, I didn't think so . . . I tell you what. If someone turns it in, I'll be happy to reward them. Five hundred dollars, okay?”

 

“Reward . . . yes . . . I tell everyone.”

 

“Gracias,” Gavin replied. “It means a lot to her.”

 

“Your name, please?”

 

“Gavin. Gavin Jamison . . . room 310.”

 

Jotting it down on a hotel notepad, the young man nodded. “Yes, Mr. Jamison,” he said. “I tell everyone, si? We find it for you.”

 

Gavin nodded, sighing as he turned on his heel and headed for the stairs once more. `A five hundred dollar reward for a seventy-five dollar necklace?'

 

What else was he supposed to do? Jillian's upset at having lost the trinket was all too real, wasn't it?

 

`Face it, Gavvie . . . you just want to be the hero again.'

 

Scowling that the truth in his youkai voice's words, Gavin ran up the three flights of stairs, taking them two at a time. `Jilli's hero . . .'

 

`Always Jilli's hero . . . for now, but not forever . . . Someday she'll have a different hero, and he won't be you, right?'

 

And that was something else he didn't want to consider, either . . .

 

 

~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~ =~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~

A/N:

 

Phantasm's almost done … time to switch gears …

 

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Reviewers

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inuyashaloverr:

OK, I know I'm only working with half a brain cell here, but I do have a question. Well, a few actually. So please bear with me. This is Jillian's story, correct? And I know Jillian is youkai, but is she also InuYoukai? And Gavin is human, right? Or am I screwed up on that one too?

 

Jillian is not inu-youkai. She's water-based youkai. Gavin isinu-youkai. His father is Moe Jamison, the hunter.

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xfalsetruth06x:

I'd say this story is about 10 yrs after phantasm so this story takes place around 2066, right? Well how come nothing seems as hi-tech as 60 years of advancement of technology could bring?

 

Okay, technically, it is eight years after, and it is the year 2064. There are some technology advances that are mentioned but nothing that isn't crucial to the story. This is not a sci-fi tale, so remarking on technological advances isn't really something that is needed or something that ought to be stated gratuitously. If you think about the technological advances to every day life in the last ten years, while there have been some—most notably DVD players and recorders, etc, most of those changes aren't really something that stand out, especially in the realm of a story based not on the environment but on the emotions of the characters. Sydnie uses what's called an `automap' now, and while those are available nowadays, they are said to be standard during Phantasm. Hers also goes a little further in activating turn signals, etc, so that she cannot miss her designated destination. Jeb's plasma-screen TV is voice-activated. Toga is running around with a DVD recorder, and Kichiro buys one for Belle in Justification. There have been some advances, but really, most of them are in the realm of technology that isn't incorporated into homes. Think of NASA and homeland security. If I were writing a story dealing with something like that, then there would be significant advances shown, but I'm not. I know some people think that there are going to be huge advances, but remember, people used to believe we'd be living in the midst of floating cities and teleportation devices by the year 2000, and we're not. I tend to be a little more realistic than that.

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MMorg

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Final Thought fromGavin:

Jilli's hero …

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Shameless): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~