90210: 2012

There was something about an airport that always made Naomi excited – ever since she was little. That was probably because she associated it with flying away to a sandy beach with hot guys and a cool, refreshing sea, and also subconsciously because she associated it with a calming period where her parents were at ease, where she was at ease and were even Jen was unnaturally calm and serene. However this time it was different, she scanned the arrivals board eagerly and spotted the LA Flight – it had landed ten minutes previously and she idled as the automatic doors, waiting for her friends to arrive.

She looked over her appearance in the reflection in one of the screens, her wedges and choice of maxi-dress and denim-jacket seemed perfectly relaxed and chilled, while at the same time exuding the appropriate elegance which was enhanced by both her enormous hand-bag and her designer sunglasses – a must if one were to assimilate into Italian society, not that Naomi needed any help there. She was dating a Count who owned a vineyard and an enormous 17th Century Villa overlooking the Amalfi Coast – in short she was living the Italian dream, tearing around the length of the country on a Vespa with her arms wrapped around the tanned, hunky, muscled aristocrat by day and dancing in the clubs before sampling the country's fine wine and sumptuous food by night.

She spotted the perv – a janitor who was probably not shy of sixty - looking at her as he cleaned the floor and turned around and shot him a look saying: you aren't even fit to gaze upon my Miu Miu wedges let alone the entire outfit – he give her a suitably reproachful look and left, continuing to sweep the floor and whistling in a way that she presumed was designed to annoy people. She turned back to the arrivals doors as they parted, and watched excitedly as the first few tourists spilled through from the LA Flight – she was always surprised at the vast gulf between those who lived the life of the glamorous elite and those who…didn't – some people came through in cheap polo shirts, shorts and those hideous sandals with imitation leather binding, some people with a little more taste came through in summery floral print jumpsuits and dresses but ruined the attempt at chic on a budget by plumping for a pair of crappy plastic heels and then came through her people – a brunette girl with the effortlessly flowing locks that looked glossy and lush and nourished, while at the same time worn in that flowing style that so easily disguised the presence of tasteful extensions, that coupled with the enormous sun hat, aviator sunglasses and simply neutral, cream vest-top and high-waist trousers exuded high fashion, in fact Naomi actually allowed her gaze to wonder following that girl as she swept through – probably a model looking at her bone structure. She forced herself back to the door, playing the waiting game.

Her eyes lit up as she spotted the person she had been waiting for – this girl was a brunette too though her style was not so much haute couture as…edgy but thankfully in a manner that actually seemed attractive, her hair was cut back in a bob with a defined, jagged fringe that cut across her forehead in a staggered sweep, despite a lengthy flight she seemed relaxed and rested, her make-up was minimalist and yet perfectly defined – her outfit, a carefully chosen playsuit, complemented by up and coming designer bag outlined her as not an LA Style follower, but an LA Style setter.

"Silver!" Naomi yelled excitedly, tearing across the arrivals hall and almost tackling her friend to the ground with the force of her hug, she felt Silver compress as she squeezed the air out of her and then relaxed her grip on her friend, smiling sweetly at her as she regarded her friend – how did she deal with flights so well? "You look amazing," Naomi said as they swept through the terminal building, only mildly slowed by Silver's relatively small suitcase as they cruised toward the parking lot where Naomi had left the beautiful vintage coupé Gio – as the Count was affectionately known to her – had loaned her, unfortunately beautiful though the vintage 1950s roadster was she couldn't pop the trunk automatically so she scooted around and opened it, allowing Silver to put her case in and then running around to the drivers side.

Naomi grimaced as she looked at the three pedals looking back at her, almost menacingly to her mind – she had never driven stick-shift before and was finding the experience entirely hideous, even if she was getting quite proficient at the gear-changes she still missed the simple process of accelerate and stop, although the benefit seemed that everyone at work had given her some kind of respect, making up for the fact that she had been completely ignored when she had made the rookie error of deciding to wear an outfit she thought was stylish only to discover that in Italy she would have to dress as they did if she were to progress.

It had been like a beautiful dream that her internship with Vogue had enabled her to transfer to Italy, and it had been even more fortuitous that she had been able to transfer to an Italian university and still take her course in English, of course it meant she wouldn't see any of her friends for the first semester but that didn't seem so important – she was in Italy, the weather was still gorgeous even if school and work sometimes got in the way of her enjoying it, but otherwise it was as if summer had never ended. Naomi checked five times before pulling out – the amount of times she had nearly been killed pulling out was beginning to get scarily high, so she was being extra-cautious.

"You're quiet – what's the matter?" Naomi enquired.

Silver shrugged, "It's nothing…so tell me about the Count?"

Naomi was about to lunge into one of her love strung monologues about the newest guy in her life but thought better of it – something was wrong with Silver, she seemed upset and Silver never showed any emotion unless it was something really tearing her up on the inside – and this had to be something big, if Naomi could have predicted the scene Silver would've raced out of the terminal and immediately demanded Naomi take her to Rome so she could soak up all the culture and history of the City. This tranquillity was extremely unusual and it made Naomi feel unsettled, "Is it school – you're only visiting for like a week Silver, besides can't someone take notes for you?"

"It's not College," she said, ruling out the scholastic possibility, "you just…you've missed a lot since August Naomi…everything's changed back home."

"With Navid…or more generally?" she enquired as they moved onto the motorway, tearing away toward Amalfi and the elegant villa, Naomi pushed to the back of her head the thought of sipping a refreshing glass of wine on the terrace, focusing upon Silver who simply looked at her with a face creased in frown but without tears – she was at least composed enough to avoid that.

"Naomi…we broke up, a couple of weeks after you left," she admitted, "after the Camping Trip…everything changed…and I mean everything."

. . .

Ivy looked at the test and frowned deeply – she couldn't be, it wasn't possible…it had only been the one time, and they'd been so careful and so guarded and yet…it had all been lost for that one night of stupid, idiotic, ridiculous passion. She looked up as she heard Dixon call out form the other side of the door, "You Okay?" She paused, could she tell him – did he want kids? Would she scare him off…what exactly was the right course of action? She didn't even know if she wanted a kid – she was a semi-professional surfer, you didn't just have a baby and go back, if she had the baby then she'd lose her career.

"I'm fine," she said as she opened the door, having ensured prior to opening it that the test was buried beneath the other bathroom trash, she moved through the apartment they shared to the breakfast bar, settling and pouring herself a glass of orange juice and sipping at it pensively, Dixon crossed around and cornered her with one of his probing looks, "quit it – I said I'm fine," she dismissed, hoping foolishly that it might stop him probing but he didn't, "don't you have class or something today?"

Dixon shook his head, "Not if you aren't well – come-on Ivy something's gotta be wrong, you were in there for like half an hour?"

"I was just…reading," well that sounded stupid, "and got like…really caught up in the story or something – did you get my ring resized?" That was a better deflection, once she got Dixon back onto the topic of their engagement and forthcoming marriage then she could be sure he'd forget all about her bathroom exploits – he paused for a moment and then she saw him take on that gormless expression were he was about to lunge into another monologue about the wedding and how romantic it would be – something that she presumed had come from helping plan Annie and Liam's wedding several months previously.

"Sure," he affirmed and Ivy breathed a quiet sigh of relief that she had gotten away with it, "it should fit perfectly, I put it on your bedside table last night – guess you didn't see it when you came in?" She shook her head vehemently, "Well it's beautiful…it didn't come cheap either but it's perfect – so anyway about the wedding, I still wasn't sure what theme you wanted to go with cause I guessed that you wouldn't want it to be a traditional type," Ivy raised an eyebrow in genuine inquisitiveness, "so I asked at the Church and basically we could get married on the beach…at sundown, and I know since we don't have Navid getting that Marquee would be hard but I thought if we asked Naomi she might no someone who could get one of those big tents I'm always hearing about-"

"-that sounds, perfect," she interjected, she didn't want him to run away with it, next he'd be deciding what kind of dress she was going to wear, not that she didn't already have an idea but she didn't want Dixon to swoop in and control that, that was the only part of the wedding she was interested in, ensuring that her dress was beautiful and that she looked radiant, which for a surfer chick was…a challenge, "are your parents still organizing catering?"

"Yeah…" Dixon trailed off and Ivy realized she'd touched a nerve and made an apologetic face but he shrugged it off smirking at her, "there just in one of their arguing phases so we're probably gonna end up with two different types of food…how does Italian and Chinese sound?"

"Oh cool Kung Pow Pizza – my kind of food," Ivy smirked and Dixon let out a relaxed laugh, at least she had moved away from the touchy parent subject, "my Mom will be there…and as for my Dad…I'll just leave that as undecided, I haven't spoken to him and he hasn't spoken to me, probably cause I decided not to go to College so he doesn't have to spend any money on me anymore. Any word from the happy couple?"

Dixon sniggered, "Yeah Annie said Vegas is…amazing."

. . .

She was lost in his eyes, they were like two, deep, tiny oceans, each glistening, each beautifully blue, each complete perfection. She felt him bat away the hair from her face and she lunged ahead for the kiss, planting one on him like she had been learning to at her acting classes to give her that effective movie look while carrying through the passion behind it, she didn't care if any of the people watching them were put off by their very public display of affection or more accurately displays of affection, they'd been kissing and cuddling poolside all morning.

They had spent the night partying, they had gone to bed, they had capped the night off with the kind of majestic marital sex that most couples spend their entire relationship trying to find and then Annie had slipped into the warm embrace of sleep, awaking nuzzling against Liam's chest…it felt as though she was living through a dream and each day she was going to a place she'd never been before, experiencing new things, tasting new delights, reaching higher heights of happiness than she had ever been open to before.

It had been a shame that the first weeks of their marriage had been marred by the return of her prodigal psychopath cousin Emily and equally it had been a pain that they had had to wait for their honeymoon until October but now they were here, in Vegas and thanks to her over-generous grandmother experiencing an all expenses paid romantic vacation at what was one of the most surreal yet at the same time most exclusive hotels on the strip – the Venetian. Annie had always wanted to go to Venice, to see the places mentioned in both The Merchant of Venice and Othello, to see the backdrops that had inspired the plays and the roles that she some day dreamed of playing – in fact she just wanted to go to Italy in general but Nevada was a decent stand in. She could walk across the Rialto Bridge or take a romantic gondola ride with her husband – the world was completely theirs and she was living it to the fullest.

He stroked the top of the head and then kissed it and that snapped her out of her romantic, blissful trance – something about it seemed odd. It wasn't loving, he would have pecked her on the cheek if that was the case, and it wasn't reassuring he would have simply touched at her hand for that, and it wasn't passionate because he hadn't made for her lips or her neck or her arms or any part of her exposed body for that matter – it was a kiss of warning, that he was about to drop something on her and Annie thought back the reflex to groan at the thought of it.

"What's the matter?" she murmured, watching as an enormous woman waded out of the pool, glowing a fiery scarlet colour – Annie was thankful that she'd remembered to bring sun block and lather herself in it, now she was going a gorgeous natural tanned colour that while maintaining her normally pale complexion, at the same time gave her a glossy tan look that would ensure she didn't stick out like a sore thumb amongst her friends back in Beverly Hills.

"Nothing," he said, repeating the kiss on her head and she looked up at him, not looking for love in his eyes but looking for what he was keeping from her, he looked away, "so I heard there's this great Club over in the MGM Grand that I thought we'd go look at – everyone's partied there the Kardashians, Britney Spears, Gaga…I mean we might even actually meet somebody famous." Annie frowned, now he was definitely lying or trying to deflect her because if there were two things Liam wasn't interested in, one was going out to clubs and the second was celebrity-hunting, the day Annie had tried to lure him on a tour of the stars houses he had flatly refused and she had committed the example to memory.

"Liam come-on I'm your wife," that made her feel about a century older than she actually was, "aren't I allowed to know what you're thinking, I tell you everything, come-on?"

Liam's face creased in indecision – he loved Annie and trusted her implicitly – he wouldn't have married her otherwise and made her his wife but he found it difficult to fully open himself to someone, make himself so vulnerable, he had become well versed in resisting opening his heart to people, letting them see his true self, even when he had been with Naomi he had never been completely honest or comfortable around her…with Annie things were different, he actually felt comfortable to be around her. Somehow that made him feel as though he couldn't keep it from her, but he didn't want to tell her anything that might actually get his hopes rising slightly higher.

"I spoke to my Mom," he said and Annie smiled warmly – the two had been avoiding talking to one another since Liam's fall-out with his Stepfather and his growing desire to shake off association with her while she remained married to him, considering that Liam knew he was having an affair and also recognized that his stepfather was a completely douche who tried to control Liam as though he were his actual father, he saw Annie's eyes light up warmly and that realisation, "but don't get too excited – she was just telling me that my Dad's back and…well he was asking for me, so she thinks he wants or needs something."

Annie nodded understandingly, "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," she interlocked her hands with his, letting his large fingers mesh with her smaller, more feminine ones, "together."

. . .

Sometimes Marco wondered how Teddy was so trusting, for person that had been so insecure for so much of his life and had taken so long to invite people into his heart and commit himself to relationships, once he was into long-term commitments he often seemed to be completely trusting to the point of being over-trusting, he was always quick to offer Marco the use of his car rather than the beaten up station wagon he normally drove, he always loaned Marco some money if he needed it, he always trusted Marco to ensure the bills were paid, if he were a different person Marco could have made a very good profit out of his boyfriend.

He spotted the person standing by the side of the road and pulled the car – he was driving Teddy's beautiful vintage, sleek open-top – to a halt as he drew level with the person, the person's face had seemed full of tears and he had seemed scared somehow but as Marco drew level the face contorted into one of fearsome resolve, Marco saw the glint of the pistol as it was levelled at him and felt life drain out of him as the bullet tour through his chest, glancing at his heart and flew out the other side. He was only vaguely aware of the shooter moving him into the other seat as he slumped into unconsciousness and the car pulled away back onto the road, into the darkness of the night.

. . .

Hope you liked my new revised Chapter,

I just tweaked some of the storyline,

Hope you like it,

Acrobat

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