Part Five of Something To Talk About
Disclaimer: Don't own. Never claimed to. Can't sue. Ha!
Props: My amazing sister, Bethlyn, who constantly supports my writing. I can't thank you enough, Bethy! My parents who give me inspiration, encouragement, and of course...a computer with which to write my stories! I love you all!
Pacey and Joey finally got together, and now the Fab Four is in
Boston for a film festival. Jen and Joey went off on their own
after an argument with the guys on where to spend the day. A
creepy Jamaican cab driver hit on them (eew!), and they
eventually met up with Dawson and Pacey, only to run into
Anderson Crawford moments later!
"Deborah?" Pacey repeated, confused.
Joey winced, suddenly realizing that Pacey had never heard the Deborah- Anderson story. She looked at Jen, silently pleading for her help.
"Uh, Pace, there's a, um, painting...I want to show you. Come on." Jen stammered.
"What?" Pacey asked, as Jen dragged him away from Dawson, Joey, and Anderson.
"Deborah, how are you?" Anderson smiled.
"I'm okay. You?"
"Good," He looked at her uncertainly. "You never called..."
"What are you doing in Boston?"
"Anderson, there's something I have to tell you," Joey glanced at Dawson.
Dawson nodded. "I'll be with Van Gogh over there if you need me."
"Thanks," Joey said, waiting until he was gone to say what she had to say. "Remember when I said I wasn't Cinderella?"
"Yes, and I told you that it didn't matter,"
"Well, I'm not Cinderella...and I'm not Deborah either."
She took a deep breath. "Deborah Carson doesn't exist. I made her up because I didn't think you'd look twice at me if you knew who I really was."
"Who are you then?"
"My name's Joey Potter. The restaurant where we first saw each other...I'm a waitress there. My sister and her boyfriend own it."
"I'm not rich. I live with my sister and her boyfriend and their illegitimate baby in a tiny house in the bad part of town. My mother's dead, and my father's in jail."
"Oh," Anderson said, still confused. "Uh, your dad's in jail?"
"Trafficking marijuana in excess of 10,000 pounds,"
"Oh," He nodded. "I'm sorry about your mom."
"It was years ago," Joey shook her head. "I'm really sorry, Anderson. I was just sick of being little Joey Potter, girl from the wrong side of the creek."
"I guess that's understandable,"
"So you don't hate me?"
"Of course I don't hate you. I'm just a little angry that you thought I wouldn't have liked you if you weren't the stereotypical rich girl."
"I'm not a rich girl, period. It has nothing to do with being stereotypical."
"Okay. Look, uh, Joey, right?"
"Well, why don't we start over,"
"Yes. Pretend we've never met. Give ourselves another chance?"
"Uh, another chance?"
"Am I speaking English?"
"Then why do you keep repeating everything I say like it's in Swahili?"
"I, uh, I have to be honest with you, Anderson,"
"There's a first,"
"I have a boyfriend,"
"Really? Did you have a boyfriend when you were pretending to be Deborah Carson?"
"No, of course not,"
"Well, that's a plus,"
"Anderson, you're a great guy, and...all right, I never thought I'd ever say this, but it's just not going to work. I...really like Pacey."
"Do you love him?"
"I don't know,"
"Okay," Anderson nodded. "Well, at least you were honest."
"I am really sorry about that,"
"It's all right. So, I should go. I have to get back to my hotel."
"It was great seeing you again,"
"You too," Anderson smiled. "Nice meeting you, Joey."
"Thanks," Joey watched silently as he walked away. "You too." she whispered.
Dawson returned to her side the second Anderson was gone. "Hey, Jo. How'd he take it?"
Joey shrugged. "He was nice about it. I feel bad though. He's a great guy."
"Then what stopped you from going out with him?"
"Dawson," Joey rolled her eyes. "You know how I feel about Pacey."
"Yeah," Dawson smiled at his best friend. "You know what Jo?"
"I think things are finally working out for us,"
"You know what, Dawson?"
"I think you're right," She took his arm and grinned. "Now let's go find our insignificant others before Pacey bumps into a priceless sculpture or something."
They walked around the corner and found Jen literally holding Pacey down. "Jen! Get off me!" he grunted, while trying to overpower her.
Joey laughed as she and Dawson watched Pacey squirm in frustration. "It's okay, Jen. You can let him go."
Jen stood up and let Pacey climb to his feet.
"What the hell was that all about?" Pacey asked fiercely.
"That was Anderson Crawford," Joey explained. "He's...someone from my past."
"Oh, really? That's all you're going to tell me?"
"Yes. I don't ask you to talk about Tamara, you don't ask me to talk about Anderson."
Pacey's eyes darkened at the mention of Ms. Jacobs. "Fair enough." He agreed, his voice clipped.
"All right then," Jen grabbed Dawson's hand. "Let's go!"
"Where to?" Dawson asked.
"I don't know," Pacey said snidely. "Maybe Joey wants to spend the day with someone from her past."
"Oh, give it a rest, Pacey," Dawson said. "It's not a big deal."
"Oh, so Dawson knows? You can tell him, but you can't tell me?"
"Pacey," Joey sighed. "Look, Anderson came to Capeside a while ago and we...flinged."
"Yeah. We had a fling. We spent the day together, and that was it."
"Then who's Deborah?"
"Well, Anderson's rich, and I didn't think he'd like me. So, I pretended to be someone else."
"Then why didn't you just tell me?"
"Because you were being so irrational,"
"I wasn't being irrational,"
"Really? What do you call it?"
"I'd call it jealousy," Jen offered.
"I'm not jealous," Pacey protested.
"Possessive," Dawson commented.
"I like jealous," Joey smiled. "Come on, Pace. It's no big deal."
"Sure, not to you,"
"All right, you two. Let's get some lunch and head back to the hotel." Jen suggested. "Me and Joey have to get ready for the awards ceremony."
"Already?" Dawson asked incredulously.
"I explained this, Dawson," Jen said patiently. "It takes girls a lot longer to get ready than guys."
"Not all guys," Pacey snorted. "You should've seen Dawson this morning. I swear, he brushed his hair so many times I thought it was going to fall out."
"Shut up," Dawson mumbled.
"Let's get going before we have another minor disaster," Joey took Pacey's hand and led them out of the museum.
"Jen, why don't you hail a cab for us," Dawson said. "It's on me."
Jen and Joey exchanged a look.
"No thanks, Dawson," Joey said quickly. "I feel like walking."
"Me too," Jen agreed.
"Okay," Dawson shrugged. "Whatever you say."
The girls smiled at each other.
"A Mexican fortune teller, Joey, I'm telling you," Jen teased.
Joey groaned. "Don't even go there."
Dawson and Pacey watched them in confusion. Pacey shook his head.
"Dude, I don't even want to know,"
* * * * *
A scream ripped through the hotel. Dawson and Pacey looked at each other in surprise.
"That came from their room," Dawson said.
"Where do people ever get the idea that you're perceptive?" Pacey said sarcastically. He shook his head. "Come on. Let's go make sure they're okay."
"JEN! Put that thing down!"
"Joey, relax. It won't kill you."
"I know, but I'll kill you if you touch my hair with that thing!"
"It's just a curling iron,"
"It's a weapon of mass destruction,"
"You're being melodramatic,"
"You're being satanic!"
"Joey," Jen sighed. "Stop being a wimp."
"Ooh, retract those claws," Pacey stood in the doorway of the hotel room and grinned. "Hey, D-man. The chicks are gonna battle it out. Cat fight."
"Go away, Pacey," Joey and Jen said in unison.
"They love you, Pace," Dawson said smiling. "Jo, what were you screaming about?"
"She's attacking me with a curling iron,"
"I wasn't attacking her, I was just trying to help,"
"Then help me throw that thing in the garbage,"
"Not a chance, Joey. This cost me fifteen bucks."
"You got ripped off,"
Jen rolled her eyes. "All right, I won't do your hair if you don't want me to."
"I want you to, just not with that thing," Joey turned and noticed that the guys were still in the doorway. "What are you two still doing here? Scram!"
"We'll pick you up in two hours," Dawson said, just before Jen slammed the door in his face.
"Now," Jen walked back over to Joey. "What are we going to do with you?"
Two hours later, Dawson and Pacey showed up at their door, both in tuxedos.
"Hey, guys," Jen said. "Come on, Jo. They're here."
"Wow," Pacey murmured. "You look great, Joey."
"Thanks," Joey smiled shyly. "You don't look too bad either."
"I see Jen won the curling iron battle," Dawson commented. "You look like Little Orphan Annie, Josephine."
"Shut up, Dawson," Jen slapped his arm.
"Ouch! I was just kidding, Jen."
"You'd better be,"
Pacey rolled his eyes. "Let's pray we get seated at a different table." He said to Joey.
They took an elevator down to the lobby, and walked into the Grand Ballroom, where the awards ceremony was taking place. Dawson gave the maitre d' his name, and he led them to their table.
"Well, we're toward the front," Dawson said. "That's got to be good, right?"
"Just keep telling yourself that," Joey teased.
"Shut up, both of you," Jen whispered. "They're starting."
A tall, bald man in a tuxedo stepped up to the podium on the stage. "Hello, and welcome to the fifth annual New England Young Filmmakers Awards Banquet. My name is George Harrington, and I'll be your host this evening."
The audience clapped. Dawson and Joey exchanged a nervous glance.
"We'll start off tonight with the award for best documentary,"
"At least you're not first," Joey said quietly.
"I'll be last, with my luck," Dawson muttered.
"The nominees for best documentary are: All I Have to Give, about a young man's battle with leukemia, produced by John Tuttle and Chris Murrray; Family Portrait, about an adopted woman's search for her birth parents, produced by Julie Keller; Irreconcilable Differences, about a family's attempt to deal with divorce, produced by Mike and Laurie Sampson; Alone in the Dark, about a teenage girl's recovery after she was beaten and raped, produced by Lydia Gregory, Martha D'Angelo, and Beth-Ann Ryder; and For Whom the Bell Tolls, an interesting look into the assasination of President Kennedy, produced by Anderson Crawford."
Joey slumped over in her chair and sighed. "Well, damn."
"How many times is that guy going to come back?" Jen asked wearily.
George opened the envelope. "And the winner is..."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Haha!
The great thing about writing is that you get to do stuff like
that to people. Don't worry, I won't make you wait too long. As
always, I love feedback! Thanks for reading! -Ainz
Write to Ainsley