Title: "Ten Days Wonder" Part One
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom: "One Life to Live"
Rating/Classification: PG-13, Rex/Adriana (Rex/Lindsey, River/Adriana implied), angst, adult situations.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just the twisted idea.
Summary: There's no such thing as an easy mark. A story set around the first week of June 2004, just as Rex is about to lose his club to RJ Gannon.

The footsteps echoed along the corridor and he automatically tensed, rolling over gingerly on the bunk to face his visitor. Vega again? Garcia? McBain?

Worse.

She wrapped her hands around the bars, watching him sit up. Her dark eyes were so much more cynical now. They saw everything, catalogued every wince, every creak of his muscles. "Hello, Rex," she greeted, softly, just the barest hint of a question in the words.

"I ran into a door," he quipped, smoothing down his coveralls, lingering over his ribs. Underneath the cloth, his skin was dotted with bruises in various shades of yellow, blue, and green.

"A door named Antonio?" she arched an eyebrow and that, too, was something new. Something she'd picked up from him.

"Go figure. I tripped over the Thin Blue Line when they brought me down from booking." He gave her the non-answer. There was no question of filing police brutality charges. He'd have done the same if anybody had messed with Natty. Messing with a cop's cousin just meant there were more people around to administer the ass-kicking. He dragged a hand through his hair, asking, wearily, "Why are you here?"

She cocked her head. "You really don't know?" The naive little furrow... he was almost relieved to see it was still a part of her. One thing he hadn't taken away.

"No. I don't...I don't get it. Shouldn't you be off wearing a lace mantilla and saying 'I do' to River Carpenter?" His mouth twisted as he taunted her, and himself, with the image. It was less cruel than others. Than how he'd last seen her...unbuttoning her blouse and asking him to--"Why would you want to see me?" he choked out.

She stared at him for the longest minute in the world. And it sucked the breath out of him more effectively than any punch to the gut. It made him remember...

Watching her face as she read a copy of 'Craze' and memorized whatever silly fashion tips she felt like she needed to know.

And...

Dancing slow...his hands sliding up her shirt...stopping...only to have her take them and move them higher.

And...

*"You wanted my money?" she demanded, face a mask of pain, of betrayal. "River was right, wasn't he? All you've wanted all along..."

"No. No, that's not all..." He held out his hand to her, pleading with her to believe him...to believe in him just this once.

"Oh, *claro que si*...of course that's not all." Her fingers trembling as she worked the buttons of her blouse. "You want this, too, right? Isn't that what you told me the first time we met? That all guys are after one thing?" Standing bare in front of him. "Well, take it, Rex...take it. It's yours."

"I...please...Baby..."

Please.

He stared up at her, stricken. "Why?"

"Love, Rex," she whispered. "Something you'll never understand."

He waited till she was gone to roll over and hide his face in the brick-like pillow. When his shoulders shook, he blamed it on the chill from the cinderblocks that lined the basement. The dampness on his cheeks, too.

He refused to blame love.

She was wrong. He understood it way too well.

***

She threaded her way through the crowd on the Ultra-Violet dance floor. Follow the music. That tended to be the key with River. You had to follow the music or the musicians or somebody who had an iPod.

The fingers circling around her wrist caught her off guard. Tight, twisted, she looked back at the blond man who was staring down at her hand with something like disgust in his eyes. The owner.

"Either my door guys need glasses or you snuck in," he said, his voice clearly audible over the grinding rock soundtrack that was all ready giving her a headache.

"I...I..." There were no Xs. No wristband. She shrugged, helplessly. "I'm not here to drink," she assured, feebly. "I just came to find someone."

He snorted, hand traveling up to her elbow so he could expedite her trip towards the exit. "And I'm Samuel Adams."

Her brows furrowed. "I thought River said your name was Rex."

She had to be kidding. He stopped stock still on the edge of the dance floor, looking back at the girl's big, dark, eyes. Totally guileless. She really...oh, man. Rex shook his head, wishing he could go back and hide in his office for the next week, month, year. "My name *is* Rex," he muttered, guiding her to the bar. "And all I need is for the liquor license guys to come in and find you here. I all ready got shut down once this year."

"Look...all I want to do is find River Carpenter. And Shannon McBain," she said the second name with a shudder. Like it was a synonym for "radioactive waste." And as he searched his memory banks for a face to go along with it...stopping on the clingy groupie who always hung around Riley and the boys...he couldn't necessarily fault the reaction.

"You mean there's more of you crawling around? *Great*," he growled. One look over the crowd revealed that River and Shannon were sitting with a couple of the Midnight Logic guys. Shmoozing. An expert glance at the drinks near them told him they were sodas. Nothing to worry about. Well, nothing to worry about except the fact that Clingy Girl was all over the spiky-haired kid.

And he had no intention of telling Adriana that.

Of course he knew who she was. He wasn't stupid. Every grifter in town knew about Dorian Lord's 30 million dollar trust fund baby. She was the Holy Grail of marks. Emphasis on 'holy.' Her simple white blouse buttoned up to her throat. Her skirt? Conservatively cut at the knees. She looked like a Catholic school girl. Hell, she probably *was* a Catholic school girl. And if she'd walked in the front door, he was most definitely firing Drew and Reuben.

She tried to fidget away from his insistent grip and look around the club as he pushed her to the bar and onto a stool.

"Sit!" he ordered, shaking a finger at her. One of the same fingers that had been around her wrist. Suntanned, perhaps only a shade lighter than her own natural skin tone. He was one of those men whose skin grew darker as their hair grew paler. Like the creatures of summer who had always flocked to the beaches of Puerto Rico when she was growing up.

He was awfully young for someone who owned a club. He looked barely old enough to be out of college. If he had gone at all. His dark eyes were fixed on her as if she had "idiota" tattooed on her forehead. David often looked at her the same way, but he was her confidante, her friend...she was rapidly coming to think of him like a father. Rex was anything but paternal.

He moved around the bar, fiddling with bottles and glasses. "Here," he said, pushing something across to her. It was pink, with cherries in it. "A Shirley Temple," he informed, still looking at her as if she had some contagious disease.

"I'm not going to cause any trouble," she protested, squirming under his scrutiny.

"You're a walking *case* of trouble, Kid," he assured, dryly.

"Am I?" She laughed, playing with the swizzly stick in the glass. She certainly didn't feel like trouble. "Then why isn't River with me?" She didn't wait for him to answer. Not that he would. He didn't look like the advice-giving type. "Oh...right...I pushed him right back into Shannon's arms."

Rex wondered, not for the first time, if this girl was the genuine article. "Wait...you're telling me...you dump the guy for fooling around on you...and now you're here trying to write another chapter in your teenage love story?" Sure, he'd had his share of bumps in the road with Jen...and with Lindsey...but come *on*.

"I'm not *stupid*, okay?" she cried, defensively. "I love River."

He rolled his eyes, leaning on the bar. "Look, Kid...what are you, sixteen? Everybody thinks they're in love when they're sixteen." He waved his hand, dismissively. "I thought I was in love with the prettiest girl in Michigan. Of course...she wouldn't give it up...so I 'fell in love' with somebody who would."

"River...River's not like that!" she sputtered.

"Got news for you, Babe. *All* guys are like that."

She looked like he'd slapped her. Yeah, he'd hit the right note. And it looked like nobody had ever talked to her that way before. He almost ...*almost*...felt sorry for being the one to do it. He made a point of never really being sorry for anything.

Except maybe going into business with RJ Gannon.

Because it was starting to look like he couldn't make his loan payments. And if he missed one...well...serving underage girls was going to be the least of his problems.

Rex was staring off somewhere over her shoulder, ignoring her now, and Adriana's stomach lurched with a mix of pity and hurt. Did he really think love didn't exist? What a sad life. But...but what if he was right? What if she'd lost her chance because of her promise to God, to her mother and David?

"No...no, you're wrong," she denied, quietly. More to herself than to him.

"Am I?" he mocked her earlier question, focusing on her once more. She was, after all, much prettier than RJ. And...and richer.

The Holy Grail.

The jackpot.

His mouth went dry.

And then he smiled at her. "Prove it," he dared, outrageously. "Prove to me that your love story is worth it."

"All right!" She met the challenge in his eyes, raising her chin and giving him her best stubborn Cramer Woman glare. "I'll prove it."

"Not tonight, though. Tonight, I want you outta my club."

"Tomorrow, then?"

"Sure. Meet me at Foxy Roxy's."

He'd bet her inheritance that she was going to fail.

She'd bet her heart that she was going to succeed.

***

It was well past ten in the morning when she left Creme Brulee. "La Boule," she reminded herself, aloud, with a giggle. David was a terrible influence. Between "Creme Brulee" and "La Blue Lei," she had ceased to think of her home by her mother's noble title. But it was, she knew, her *home*.

Even awash in fighting noises. Kelly ...Blair...things she was probably better off not knowing. Things they wouldn't tell her anyhow. They wouldn't even notice she was gone. She had to admit she preferred it that way. As long as she wasn't out till all hours of the night, where Hetty would keep track and report back to Dorian, she was all right.

Unlike Starr, she was the dependable child. The one who could be counted on.

She had no idea why she was even bothering going to Foxy Roxy's. It wasn't like Roxy's wild, rude, son was going to remember the conversation they'd had last night at Ultra-Violet.

In fact, she really didn't know why she'd remembered it herself.

Her Shirley Temple had remained untouched as Rex ushered her out the door, stopping to tell his two hapless bouncers that she wasn't to be let back in after hours under *any* circumstances. "Stay out," he'd added, one arm pinning her to the brick wall. He'd been close enough that she could smell his cologne. Or maybe his skin. Something spicy and warm.

He had held her there until some beautiful woman with blond hair walked by... and then he'd released her, not even bothering to glance back as he followed the older woman back inside.

She'd come back through Angel Square still thinking of River and Shannon, wondering if he'd kicked them out, too. He'd probably just pretended to be sympathetic in order to get her out of the bar as quickly as possible. He probably hadn't given thought to River at all.

The beauty salon, with its eye-gougingly bright pink interior, was empty when she opened the door. The little bell jingled, announcing her entry, and, for once, she was relieved that Roxanne didn't appear from the back room. It was still too early to face all that noise and color. Sometimes, she had to bite her tongue to keep from asking Roxy to slow down. She simply nodded along, instead, so the friendly woman wouldn't realize she only understood every fourth word.

"Don't worry," River had told her once, "Most people only get a fourth of what Roxy says. It's not just you."

She set her purse down on the counter, listening for noise from the depths of the salon. More often than not it sat closed, dark, while Roxanne worked over at the hotel. She opened up only for special customers or when Natalie could spare the hours to work a few shifts. Adriana was tempted to offer her help, too, but she knew Dorian would be absolutely horrified at the thought of it.

Just as she would be horrified at Adriana coming to meet someone like Rex.

"I didn't think you'd actually show." One of the styling chairs whirled around, and she jumped, startled. Rex was lounging in it, as plain as day.

"Madre mia! I...I didn't even see you there!" she gasped, flattening one palm over her heart to make sure it was still beating.

"There's a lot you miss," he chuckled, rising out of his careless slouch. "Being so naive and all."

"Are you always this mean?" she wondered, her jaw dropping despite her best efforts to stay poised and calm.

"Not mean...just jaded." He smirked. "And honest. That's why you're here, right? So I can impart my world weary wisdom to you? Tell you what life's all about?"

Hands on her hips, she stared at him, unwilling to allow him any more smug satisfaction at her expense. "No...I'm here to teach *you* a few things," she snapped, doing Dorian and Blair and Kelly proud.

He laughed, the sound heavy with sarcasm. "You? Teach *me*? I'd bet there isn't much to learn."

"Oh yeah?" She was less offended by the assertion, more challenged. "I bet I can name at least three things."

"At least three?" He scoffed. "You're on."

She couldn't help but grin. "Creo que no hablas espanol, muchacho."

"What?" He furrowed his brows, looking expectedly baffled.

"One," she giggled, showing him the corresponding finger. "You can't speak Spanish."

"That's cheating!" he cried, wounded. "It's obvious you'd beat me on languages, Kid!"

"Sorry, Rex. You didn't set any rules," she pointed out, impishly. The poor gringo...he had no idea.

"No wonder the Reverend's kid ran off. You're a menace!" he scowled.

He looked sullen, like a little boy. Her peals of laughter only made it worse. "Salsa," she continued. "I bet you can't salsa."

"Well...you're wrong *there*." And like the night before, his hand encircled her wrist. He pulled her close. And her breath caught.

Her hands automatically came up to create distance, pressing against his chest. She felt his own sharp gasp. River was skinny. Up until now, he had been the most amazing thing she'd ever touched. Even with his shirt against her palms, she could tell Rex was built like someone in a movie or a magazine. Rock solid.

He stared down at her, and she wondered how it was possible for a man to have such long eyelashes. How a man's eyes could be so dark, so deep, so beautiful. After a moment, he shook his head. "Maybe ...maybe the dancing should wait." His voice sounded tight, as if he couldn't quite speak.

He let her go, stepped back, and she wrapped her arms around herself. "Wh-what about love?" she wondered. "And River?" Wasn't that why she'd come here? To hear his arguments on the subject?

He was the one who laughed this time. "River's an idiot," he said, barely audible. "And love's a waste of time."

"I still think you're wrong," she countered. Her voice was shaky and she didn't even know why. As if she'd run for miles and miles.

"I know," he murmured, thickly. "And that's totally why you shouldn't be here."

For the second time in twenty-four hours, he kicked her out of his domain. As the door shut and the bell tinkled, she watched him back away from the glass.

She didn't know why she'd come here.

She wasn't sure she wanted to know why she was leaving.

***

He knocked on the gallery door, insistent. "Lindsey! Lindsey, open this door right now!" he shouted.

He'd run...he'd run from Angel Square. From Roxy's. All the way here. To the only place he *could* go.

"Lindsey!"

The door opened with a jerk against his knuckles. "What? Rex...what?" she demanded, irritably, pulling the ends of her robe around her. It served her right. Who slept in the middle of the day? "You're going to shout down the entire neighborhood."

"Let 'em come." He shouldered inside, pulling her close.

She was soft and sleep warm. All woman. Not a girl. When his mouth came crashing down on hers, she kissed back ferociously, all protests dying on his tongue.

He could do this to her. He could have her. She would take and take and take. She wouldn't ask questions. She didn't want answers.

She spread against the door for him, baring her throat to his kisses. Two tugs at her robe and she was naked. Her legs locked around his waist. He was inside her, driving deep, and nothing else mattered. Not money, not innocence. Nothing.

Later, when they were tired out and tangled two feet from the bed, he could almost convince himself that he hadn't wanted anything of Adriana's except her trust fund. He could almost...almost...tell himself that he'd kept his eyes on the prize.

Not her lips. Not her totally too-young lips.

He kissed Lindsey again and again just to make sure.

***

She buried her confusion in flan. Several meals worth. Nearly a day later and she was on the lunch portion. It was her madrina's cure-all and with good reason. Sugary, creamy, completely fattening. It was exactly the kind of things that the "Food Craze" section in her magazine said *not* to eat.

Of course, during late night kitchen raids, David frequently told her to ignore that section of the publication. "You're beautiful just the way you are. Here, have some chocolate sauce on that."

He wasn't answering his cell phone and she, idly, wondered if he was making strange trips of his own to get back at her mother for hers last month. Since she had no David to talk to, she'd chosen the back booth of the diner to sulk in. And the flan.

Flan made far more sense than boys. Or men.

It didn't flirt with girls like Shannon.

It didn't need her to wear a cute pair of hip-hugging clam-diggers and accent with an orange tube top.

She made a mental note to tell David and Blair that their fashion editor needed to have a glossary at the end of her dumb Fifty Craze-y Tips column.

"So...what's the third thing?"

The seat across from her was suddenly filled, all broad shoulders and sprawled legs. Shaggy blond hair. Striped shirt.

"What?" She stared at Rex, mystified, wondering how he'd managed to appear without making any noise...*again*.

"Yesterday. At Roxy's. You said there were three things you could teach me Spanish, salsa, and...?" He drummed his fingertips on the table, impatiently, like twenty-eight or so hours hadn't passed. "What's the third?"

She stared down at her dish of flan. Would it be completely out of line to throw the rest of it at him? She wasn't usually given to violent impulses. She wasn't usually given to impulses at *all*. "Are you insane?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Am I insane?" he echoed, staring off somewhere into the distance. After a minute, he conceded, "Yeah. *Si*. Totally loco."

Rex wasn't quite sure how things had gone to Hell in a handbasket in such a short amount of time. RJ's loan, two nights ago, had been something worrying, but not unmanageable. Two nights ago, Adriana had been a possible mark, the just-in-case jackpot. Today, she was the lesser of two evils. On the sliding crime scale, charming a girl out of a couple million she wouldn't even miss was nothing compared to torching his mom's salon and collecting the insurance money. He was a lover, not an arsonist.

Or, at least, he *had* been. Yesterday, at this time, he'd been in Lindsey's arms. Today, he didn't even have that. He had nothing except a matchbook from Capricorn in his back pocket. RJ and Lindsey had played him. They'd left him with nothing.

Well, except for ten days. One little rich girl. And a third thing to learn.

"So, tell me," he repeated. "What else have you got for me, Adriana?"

She tilted her head, staring at him with those big, brown, barely legal eyes. He had no idea what she was seeing. Hopefully not the truth.

Whatever it was, it made her shake her head and sigh. And, then, she smiled, her cheeks dimpling. She handed him a spoon from the side of her dessert bowl. "Here...have some flan. You'll feel better."

As he took a bite of sweet, caramel-laced custard, and it melted on his tongue, he had to admit...she was right.

He felt better all ready.

He felt...focused.

He knew what he had to do.

Make her forget all about that moron River Carpenter...and keep remembering that all he wanted from her was cold, hard, cash.

He could consider it payment for services rendered. They were both going to be better off. She'd be wiser and he'd be richer.

"See...you're looking less loco all ready. My madrina's flan fixes everything," Adriana said, with a measure of pride.

"A flan for all seasons, huh?" he quipped, grinning.

"The flan also rises," she agreed, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles. She'd had to read that at the convent school in San Juan. Oh, how she hated Hemingway. Flan, no doubt, would have improved his writing.

"No, no..." Rex, despite himself, was laughing, too. And...God forbid ...singing some off-key tune. "She lies and says she's in love with it...can't find a better flan..."

Adriana's magazine went sliding to the floor as she doubled over with mirth. Tears streamed down her cheeks as patrons turned to see who was making the terrible racket.

"I...oh...dios mio..." she gasped out.

Here was her third thing. She knew what she had to do.

Teach this man to open up. To open his heart.

"I think it's a foolproof flan," she murmured, fighting back the last of the amusement.

"Me, too." His eyes met hers. He didn't even bother trying to keep from chuckling. "A totally foolproof flan. Best I've ever had."

***

A week. He now had a little under a week to soften Adriana up enough to withdraw money from her fancy bank accounts on his behalf. It was a harder prospect than somebody with his God-given charms might think.

As nice as it had been to share a bowl of custard and laugh until he couldn't breathe, it wasn't going to make his payments. Neither was walking her home. But he hadn't been able to resist. He'd done exactly that, scribbling his cell phone number down on a scrap of paper and handing it to her with a sheepish "call me."

Jesus Christ. He was a kid again. Next thing you know, they were going to go on a double date with her cousin Starr and her twerpy little boyfriend. RJ would love that. RJ was convinced Rex couldn't play with the big kids. Maybe he was right.

Adriana had turned from unlocking the front door, looking up at him with those eyes just like she had at Foxy Roxy's. So innocent. So...totally clueless about him. About anything.

"Are you...are you all right, Rex?"

"Sure. Fine." He'd laughed. He'd laughed knowing that going over to Lindsey's to do something about his sudden, raging, hard-on was no longer an option.

So, he'd given her his number and gone straight to Capricorn to pound back some shots. He put them on RJ's tab.

And now, waking up with the sun pouring through the windows, blinding him senseless along with the splitting headache, all he had was less than seven days, a hangover and...well...still that other problem.

Roxy had left him a rambling voice-mail the night before...he'd half-listened when he stumbled in. Something about going up to AC to talk to a guy who knew a lot about "incensiaries" and making things go "kaboom!" He had to call her, remind her that *incendiaries* and "kaboom"s weren't generally a good idea. They didn't want to burn down all of Angel Square.

Hell, he was trying not to burn anything down at all.

Except Adriana Lord's defenses.

He was going to drop by the diner later, try and see her again.

Because he only had a week or so.

Not because he wanted to hear her laugh at his singing again.

Not because he wanted her to stare at him like he was nice and sweet and funny and worth her time.

Not because she made him want to believe it...

***

Her madrina was really her tia. Her father was still dead, although he'd left her behind a 100 million dollar blood-soaked legacy and a half-brother somewhere. And River was probably locked away with Shannon because she hadn't seen either of them in days.

Life had been so much simpler before her quinceanera...when her biggest problem had been staying awake in church and avoiding teasing from the boys in the barrio. Never in a thousand years had she thought her whole life would be so different, so out of control. She lived in a big house with a silly name, she had so many new relatives she had to take notes to keep them straight, and she hadn't even graduated high school yet.

Adriana drifted down the stairs, shaking her head. Maybe she was just over-analytical? Maybe you weren't supposed to question these things? In Llanview, the impossible seemed to happened on a daily basis...like Rex's ability to appear from thin air.

Or River appearing on the doorstep just as she opened the door.

The smile on her face was immediate, as was the warm glow inside her. He looked tired, she thought, and sheepish as he scuffed his shoes on the mat.

"Uh...hi..." he stammered, running a hand through his hair and making it stand up even more than usual. "How've you been?"

*How've you been*? Her smile wavered just the tiniest bit. He kissed Shannon, swore he'd do anything to earn her forgiveness for it, spent a week not calling her, and now he was making awkward small talk?

"Oh, I've been wonderful!" she said, crossly, before she could stop herself. "I just found out that Manuel, my father, was really Carlotta's brother...so I'm related to the Vegas by blood. Nobody's ever home here except for Jack and Hetty. Starr's boyfriend calls more than you do. I overheard Dorian accusing David of fathering Kelly's baby...but she might have been joking, I still can't tell sometimes...and Rex says all you want from me is sex."

"What?" River's jaw dropped. He looked confused. But, like most teenage boys, he latched onto the important word in her impromptu tirade. "Sex?" And he rhymed, quickly, "Rex? Why are you talking about sex with Rex?"

Dios. She hadn't been talking about sex with Rex. At least not *that* way...but now she was certainly thinking about it. She shook her head, trying to erase the memory of him pulling her close, the way he grabbed her wrist. His eyes. His chest. Him suggestively licking flan off a spoon.

Sex with Rex...madre de dios.

She clutched the edge of the door. "I came to Ultra-Violet the other night looking for you. Rex was being kind, giving me advice."

River snorted, looking at her like she was very young and very stupid. "Rex Balsom is never 'kind', Adriana. He was probably playing you. He's a jerk!"

"You would certainly know, wouldn't you?" she snapped, wounded. "Are you 'playing' me or are you 'playing' Shannon McBain?"

She was *definitely* becoming a true Cramer woman. David would be proud of her.

"I'm not playing you, Adriana! I *love* you," River reminded. "I...I want to marry you. Everybody knows all Rex is after is money. He probably found out you're worth a kajillion bucks."

"Stop it!" The happy glow at seeing him, at his rumpled clothes and his hair and his gentle smile, was rapidly turning into a slow burning annoyance. "Rex and I are friends...barely...we only just met!" She wondered if she could accidentally swing the door into River's nose. "I was so glad to see you here. Don't ruin it, please."

"That's...that's what I wanted to tell *you*, Adriana," River replied, his voice rising and his hand coming up to cover hers. "Don't ruin things. Don't ruin *us*," he pleaded. "When Shannon said she saw you with Rex at Foxy Roxy's...I just had to come over and see you. I had to tell you I loved you and to believe in me."

"What?" Her jaw dropped. And, like him, she picked out the important word. "You only came here because Shannon told you I was with someone else? You listened to *Shannon*?"

Too late, River realized his mistake. "No...Adriana...wait..."

She swung the door shut as hard as possible and stumbled backwards.

There were things...there were things she most definitely would continue to question.

Her taste in men.

Her sanity.

And why the thought of licking flan off of Rex's skin was the only thing that kept her from bursting into tears.

***

Go on to the rest of Ten Days Wonder.