Hey all, its Frank here, introducing my new OTH Leyton fic with its very special (at least to me) prologue, introducing a few characters, and reintroducing an old one. Season 7 never happened, and 8 never will, though for you new character fans, don't worry, Clay and Quinn will be around, However being a big Leyton nut, they'll be my main canon couple focus, oh, and my OC Seth Michael Mares will be the POV/Narrator of the story. I don't own OTH, because if I did the show would've ended when Chad and Hil broke my heart and told me they were moving on.
One Tree Hill: A Journey, Chapter 1; By: Frank Paul Bigoski, IV
"A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us."John Steinbeck
I'm standing here at the front doors of the Charlotte Douglas International Airport, over looking a sea of steel, plastic, glass, and flesh, that is the parking lot. A lit Benson & Hedges Menthol 100 hangs from my lip, and my Zippo is gripped tentatively in my right hand. I hold my index and middle finger above the 'lid' of the lighter, and my thumb to the bottom, squeezing. It pops open, and my well taught index slides over the gear which will spark the flint, igniting the device's fuel. Flames burst forth from the metallic mouth of the gold plated contraption, before I flick the device closed, snuffing the flame. That's when the bus pulls up, with old Jared behind the wheel.
Jared's a good man, and he's been driving my personal tour bus for the last three years now, since my first book tour. I hate flying, only having taken the red-line flight home last week to see my Aunt, who's health had been failing her, before she passed away, having interrupted my signing schedule by a week. To which my editor, one Ms. Lindsey Strauss had been none too pleased. Though I'm not sure if that had been her main cause for anger, or that I had been passing through Charlotte, North Carolina at the time it had happened was. It seemed that Lindsey had something against the state of North Carolina in general, though I had personally found the people there to be quite endearing.
The funeral in Texas had been hard for me to take, and so the very night the wake ended, I was back on another red-line, and back to Charlotte, to meet back up with Jared and the crew. My assistant Malcolm had stayed in town to take care of the business end of things, and the bus's mechanic, a beautiful young woman by the name of Shanna had done a full check up on the old clunker while the team had the down time. It was appropriate that we had been in Charlotte when all this had happened actually, seeing as how Shanna was from a town not too far from the city. Tonight we were going to head out to Tree Hill and stay at the Bed and Breakfast there that her Grandparents still owned and operated, and she was going to show us the greatest night club in North Carolina. Or so she claimed.
First thing was first though, now that we were on our way out of town, and away from all the busyness of the city streets, we'd be stopping at a road side diner and getting some grub. I'd just received my first royalty check for the new book I was doing my signing for, and my troops had informed me that they were starving. I was more then willing to pick up the tab.
We pulled in to the old gravel drive of the "Red Rooster Lodge" sometime around 2:00 PM, and my stomach was grumbling at this point as well. The omelet on the flight over this morning just hadn't been up to par. I might have been a skinny guy for a 6 footer, but I still could put down some grub. Yes that's right, I'm a novelist and I just referred to my day's required sustenance as grub, do you have a problem with that?
I didn't think so.
Anyway, as I was saying, I was hungry. However I still wanted to finish reading my dog eared old copy of An Unkindness of Ravens, one more time, before I finally stepped foot in the town where it took place. If I recall correctly, the Author still lived here, and I hoped I would get the chance to meet him while I was in town, he was something of a hero of mine. Lucas Scott had sold his first manuscript, to the very same publishing company I was currently with, right out of high school, well, a year after his graduation, but still, that was pretty major. In fact, I believe he and Lindsey new each other, I'd have to see if she could set up a meeting later, after all, she did say that if there was anything she could do to make the time on the road easier she'd make it happen. Then of course there was that strange hatred of North Carolina, ah well, better things to think about.
For now though, I'd just settle for reading, and getting a good bite to eat before getting back on the road. So, stepping in to the old saloon style doors of the diner, I took a deep breath of what smelled like heaven on a grill, and aimed myself toward the bar to take a seat. Jared was just ahead of me, gesturing for the bartender to come take our orders for drinks, as he already knew exactly what each of us would be having with our mid day meal. A Blue Moon for me, my favorite common beer, seeing as how most of the beers I liked you couldn't find anywhere other then a microbrewery, and it was too early to have anything harsher. A shot of the strongest clear alcohol they had, with a Coke back, for Shanna, as she was the granddaughter of a Moonshiner, and any time was a good time to start drinking the hard stuff to her. A straight Coke for Malcolm, who didn't touch alcohol before 5:00 PM, malt or otherwise, and for Jared himself, another Coke. Jared had told me on many an occasion, after seeing me go in to a drinking binge after a bad signing, that he could drink me under the table, if he weren't a recovering Alcoholic of 25 years now, and I respected that.
What surprised me however, as Jared ordered the drinks, was the absolute beauty of the 5'5" brunette with the blonde highlights flickering in her hair, taking said order. She was stunning, and I couldn't find the words to express that. Which, if you asked anyone, in particular the three friends of mine who currently worked with me on this tour, was an uncommon occurrence if ever there had been one. I had put in to words the beauty of the Rice Terraces of Banaue, and the magnificence of the Colossus of Rhodes, but this, this angel before me, I couldn't describe. Her eyes looked like little pools of cocoa, warm and inviting. As generic and feminine as that may sound to be coming from the words of a male author who has written stories about pain and war for the better part of the last 5 years. Her long straight hair, which although held up in a tight pony tail, was still hanging to about her mid back was lush, and full of light. Her shoulders, although delicate, were held high, and straight, showing strength of will, which instantly sparked interest in this young author's mind. Her face, was chiseled to reflect the perfection of a Botticelli angel, while the soft set of her smile and the tilt that those same cocoa pools gave with that smile showed the wisdom that the young woman's visage held beyond her years.
Then she was gone, and I was assaulted from three different directions, in an attempt of course to snap me out of my own reverie. One elbow nudged my ribs, to no effect. Another hand lifted my jaw, as if in an attempt to close my wide open mouth before it caught a fly, again to no avail. Finally the slap to the face returned my attention to the here and now, and I realized that the woman I'd been so thoroughly distracted by had left her position in front of me.
"Uh, what just happened?" I asked dumbfounded, as I looked around me toward my three now laughing companions. Shanna gave me another couple playful slaps to the face, as I shook the cobwebs loose in my head, and looked toward the far side of the bar, where my beer was being opened by a slap against the lid on the edge of the bar.
"You lost all cognitive thought and started to drool," Shanna said with a barely hidden giggle evident in her tone. Before Malcolm then cleared his throat, making the group aware that it was his turn to speak.
"Yeah, pretty smooth move there boss, maybe next time you can actually let a trail of spittle fall on your shirt." My P.A. joked, which caused Jared to this time elbow him in the ribs, with a bit more force then he'd used on me.
"The young lady's name is Taylor, the door's open now Dutch, why don't you put your foot in before it closes," Jared said, gesturing back to the bar as the keep returned toward us. I stepped forward, drawing one hand down my face to make sure that there was no evidence of my former embarrassing actions, not sure if the drooling comment had been jest or not. Drawing my wallet to pull out a couple of bills to make the payment, I reached across the bar to hand them to the attendant, who was now giving me a once over with those same brown oculars.
"Thank you,, and how much will that be miss?" I asked, as I went to hand her the two twenties, to which I received a rather big surprise. The brunette beauty standing across the old weathered marble surface clasped my hand in hers, and bent my fingers gently around the bills, before giving me a wink.
"Nothing for a handsome gentleman like yourself friend, the owner of this 'fine establishment'…" she said, complete with air quotes around the last two words, which caused a lift to the left corner of my mouth. "Is kind of like a second father to me, and when I see fit to, I'm allowed to give a few freebies on behalf of the house."
Her own smile then spread across her face, reaching all the way to those wise beyond years chocolate browns of hers, before she offered out a hand in my direction. "The name's Taylor James stranger, what can I call you?"
Her full name was instantly categorized under drop dead gorgeous, in my internal filing cabinet, before I reached for her hand in response. "Seth Michael Mares, but my friends call me Dutch. I'd like to add you to that list if you'd let me."
I said with my best attempt at a lady killer's smirk, before bowing my head to her knuckles and brushing them once with my lips. Now that was how a gentleman should act when confronted with a beautiful woman, I thought to myself, considering how proud my Father would have been if he'd seen that. A stifled laugh could be heard on either side of me from behind, which I was certain belonged to Malcolm and Shanna, but a hearty pat on the shoulder reinforced my own decision, as Jared gave his approval of my actions. "Thank you for the drinks Ms. James, we'll just be going to sit at a booth across the room there, if you could send someone to take our order when you have the chance ma'am."
I finished, before withdrawing my hand, making sure to look up to see her response to the old fashioned action I'd chosen before walking away. The blush that her cheeks had taken on seemed to confirm that she had liked it, and I smiled again, this time a private internal smile, which I kept locked away deep inside my own mind. "I'll do that Dutch, and please, call me Taylor."
Soon we were all gathered at the booth sipping on our drinks, when Taylor came strutting toward the table, which gave me a look at a pair of the nicest legs I've ever seen coming from a denim skirt. The cut of the garment was modest, though pencil cut, so it showed the swell of her hips nicely, and drew plenty of attention to the toned bit of leg it showed above the knee, and all of which it revealed below. Her muscular calves showed that she at the least performed some sort of exercise with her legs, which I could appreciate, as a bit of a gym nut myself, and the sporty Converse she wore only confirmed that. They were clean, but obviously worn, and not just from working, as they had running creases about an inch and a half behind the toe, right where the ball of the foot met the arch. "What can I get for ya'll today?"
Jared ordered first, being the 'elder statesman' of the table, as Malcolm liked to refer to him. Then came Shanna, just because Malcolm and I both knew that you never got between that girl and her food. Then Malcolm ordered, getting his usual cheese burger, with four extra slices of cheese, which caused Taylor to raise an eyebrow in his direction, which drew a laugh from the whole table.
"I'll take the country fried steak, and gravy, with biscuits and mashed potatoes, and a side of mustard greens," I finally announced, to which Taylor smiled.
"My favorites there Dutch," she said, before taking all of our menus, and giving me a wink. Her hand drew back slowly, deliberately brushing against my own as she took the menu from my hand, and I smiled in return. "You guys just holler if you need anything."
As Taylor walked away, I heard a low wolf whistle from my left, which was ended with a yelp, as I assume Shanna gave Malcolm a good kick in the shin. "OW! What was that for? You were teasing him too about five minutes ago!"
"That was before I realized that things seem to be mutual dummy, now mind your manners!" Shanna chastised the youngest of us, though he was 24, more then a grown man in his own right, Malcolm was quite the joker regardless. Sometimes it was as if he had never gone through puberty.
Shortly after, we had finished our meals, and were all sipping on a second drink before preparing to head back out on the road, I myself intent on taking Taylor's phone number with me. That was when it happened.
A loud raucous could be heard outside the doors of the diner, when suddenly appearing through them came five very rowdy young men, ranging from maybe a few years younger then Malcolm, to around my own age of 27. The one leading the group, a farmer's tanned 6 footer, with a skull and dagger tattooed on his left bicep, and a sadistic look to his smile stopped about half way in to the main room of the diner. Before looking down the bar from one end to the other. "I think ya'll are in our seats!"
The man said, before stretching his neck from one side to the other, making a sickening popping noise, which caused the various patrons of the bar to snap to attention. Everyone stood up quickly from their seats and began to move away, toward the far ends of the bar, which brought a riotous chorus of laughter to the four others in the group. The leader began walking again at this point, taking the seat directly across from the register, which he pulled out from the bar, and spun round, so that the back was between his blue denim draped legs. He rose his elbows up over the table, stretching the sleeves of his shirt back to reveal a much more impressive look at his biceps, which had been somewhat hampered by the thin material of his white tee shirt only moments before. "What the hell are you ass holes doing back here?"
Came the voice of Taylor, as she stepped out from behind the wall in the rear of the bar, which I assumed was where the office was located. I was already moving, as were Malcolm and Shanna, until Jared took a hold of both of their arms from his seat. They were both good friends, and more then good to have standing beside you in a brawl, but neither of them had faced down a group of monsters the size of these guys, at least to mine and Jared's knowledge, so he wanted to keep them out of it. Besides, he saw that look in my eyes when Taylor had come out with the anger rolling of her like thunder, he already knew that if anyone was going to deal with this situation, it was going to be me.
I stood a good ten feet back, watching as the leader stared down Taylor with venom in his eyes. Cracking my knuckles silently as I clenched my fists, I prepared to do my worst, which for these gentleman, was definitely that, the worst case scenario. Taylor had by this time came around the bar, and was standing staring at the brown haired leader, with daggers in her eyes, still waiting for her answer. "Well?"
"I came to take you home Tay, don't you get off in about an hour? Well, off work, you wont get off 'til I let you," the leader said with a grin. Gesturing toward his left with a side nod of his head, the two men to that side of him stood up, so that Taylor was now surrounded by them, because the other two had stood when she'd circled round the bar. She was stuck in a corner now, and I didn't like to see anyone in a position that they didn't want to be placed in, beautiful girl or not.
"I told you three weeks ago Paul, we're done," Taylor said, before the man-beast himself stood up. He was smirking as he did so, staring seven inches down on the small woman, who for the life of her, was standing her ground, and staring right back up in to his eyes. "Get out!"
She said, before one of the two behind her grabbed her by the arm, and went to pull her away from the man named Paul. I went to move myself, but before I could reach her she'd kicked back with her left foot, just above the slightly chubby bald man's knee. Following the kick by scraping her foot downward and stomping on his booted toe, Taylor looked over her shoulder to see the goateed man fall to his knees with a howl of pain, smiling. Obviously happy with her work, she looked back toward the leader with a smirk and repeated her earlier single word question. "Well?"
"Damn it Gordo, get up," the shorter, but much more muscular Paul said, before turning toward the other two men standing behind him. "Grab the bitch and let's get out of here, she's done for the day, I guess she doesn't get that I decide when she leaves."
Paul said, to which the three remaining, a Hispanic looking gentleman with long black hair, in a thick braid, of about five feet and nine inches, and plenty of tattoos along his muscular but slim arms, and two blonde burly Caucasians that looked like linebackers, and happened to be twins, began immediately to respond. The Latino went to grab a hold of the opposite arm that Gordo had gone for earlier, only to catch a slap to his face. I was still routed to my spot, waiting to move until absolutely necessary, until I saw Paul's hand flying for Taylor's left cheek while she was looking away from him. "Taylor duck!"
I called, as my legs gave me flight in the same instant, the next moment I was standing directly beside the fallen Gordo, and my arm shot out to grip Taylor around the waist. "Bad move cowboy!"
The Hispanic man said, as he grabbed a hold of one of the bar stools and swung it toward my back. Paul's swing had went wide at least, so I only had the one attack to worry about. However I was in enclosed quarters, and this was a very bad situation.
"Get down boss!" I heard Shanna calling from our booth, which confirmed for me that Jared still hadn't let the other's move. A good choice. I fell back ward to the floor of the diner, holding Taylor tight as I went, and avoiding the large Oaken stool, and its Iron spring and leather reinforced back, which however collided with one of the twin bears, sending the man sprawling. The skinny Latino was fast, I'd have to remember that, I thought, as I relinquished my hold on Taylor, who quickly rolled away.
"I swear I'll shoot all five of you bastards if you mess up this diner!" Taylor announced, to which I let go of a chuckle, as I too rolled away, avoiding the incoming feet of all three still standing thugs. I was back to my feet at a moment's notice, having rolled behind the still upright twin, and raised up in to a fighting stance. I figured that being the biggest, he could probably hit the hardest, but also the slowest, so dropping him first would be a priority. I could have taken the easy way out, but first of all I wasn't a coward like these jack asses, and second, my body was a registered deadly weapon in 49 of the States of the Union, and three foreign countries, I had to at least warn the guy.
"You don't want to do this Hos…" I said, only to have an elbow come flying backward to my face once the big guy realized I was behind him.
"That's right Jacky, kick his ass!" Paul screamed, as he went lunging toward Taylor. Luckily she was faster, and sprinted away toward the back of the bar first, and back through the doors she'd just come out of a few moments earlier. After avoiding the elbow by ducking low, I came back up, throwing a full bodied upper cut in to the bigger man's kidney, he howled, and dropped to his knees like the chubby one had done earlier. I almost felt bad for the country boy, he would be pissing blood for a week after that punch. Just to make sure he didn't get back up, I let a knee collide with his forehead, before stepping past him. The Latino with the braid came next, and unfortunately he made all the movie stereo types come true, his lead hand was holding a knife which he aimed directly for my neck with his first thrust.
Grabbing his stabbing hand by the thumb, after stepping swiftly to the left of the attempted lunge of course, I wrenched the bone of said extension back. The snap at the base of the thumb told me all I needed to know, it was fractured, and the switch blade's clang against the floor a moment later ended my worries of this guy being a threat. However, just as with Jacky, I struck a second time to make sure. Having pulled his attacking arm all the way behind his back, and pinned it there, I struck with my free elbow, just behind his right ear. An instant knockout blow, which, if I had wanted it to be, could also have been instantly fatal, do to the pressure points in that region of the skull.
Twin number 1 was back to his feet now, and apparently running at me from behind, as I heard loud thunderous foot steps, almost like a rushing bull, behind me. "Get down kid!"
Came the warning from Jared, even as I was dropping to my knees on the ground. As the lumbering giant tripped over me, and I saw him falling almost atop me while I looked up, I lifted myself. The sudden displacement of my center of gravity, altered his flight path, sending him flying a good five more feet in to the other previously injured big guy, Gordo. Gordo managed to absorb most of the blow with out falling again though, and just leaned back against the bar holding his chest in his hand. I took that in to consideration as I looked around the bar to see Paul, the leader, hammering on the office door. I would have to make the leader quick, cause the heavy set one might still come back for more.
Jumping up on to the bar, I kicked one of the empty beer bottles sitting there in to the door, directly to the left of Paul's head. The dark haired muscle bound idiot spun toward me with a raised eyebrow, looking as though he was surprised someone had the audacity to do such a thing. "You got a death wish mother fucker?"
"No but you do, if you think you're going to touch Taylor…" I let out in one very quiet, low breath. My heart was racing, and I had more then enough adrenaline running through me at this moment to kick this guy's ass, at least, that's what my training, and my body were currently telling me. The endorphins running through my system in conjunction with that adrenaline might have been eschewing my judgment a bit, but hell, what's life with out taking a few chances?
Paul looked around the bar as if searching for his posse, which made me smirk. Apparently he wasn't as tough as he thought he was. "Bunch of pansy ass bitches!"
He yelled, as his left fist swung swiftly out toward my jaw. Or not, I thought, considering my previous decision regarding his toughness, as I barely avoided the swing with a lean to my left. My own response was to reach for the left arm that was still extended with my right, in an attempt to get a pull on his wrist, and set him up for a Kenpo punch, a full weight straight arm blow aimed for his mid section if possible. That didn't work out as planned however, as the arm of the hick had already withdrawn from my range. "Great!"
I voiced my inner disappointment, as the faster then expected second swing came for my face again, this time a right. I tried to lean away again, but Paul had shifted his weight, modifying the angle of the swing, to collide directly with my jaw. Thinks went hazy for a half second as my brain shook inside my skull, but I snapped back to in time to see the third swing coming. Fortunately for me, Paul had a boxer's mentality it seemed, rain blows on the head as long as its open. The right jab had caught me, and now he was swinging a hook with all his power toward my right temple with his left. Problem with a hook is that it's a power blow, meant for a dazed or stunned target, my vision had blurred for a moment from the jab, but I wasn't going to be dazed from something like that. "I've been hit harder."
I said, as I ducked under the hook, throwing one of my own toward his left kidney even as I attempted to dodge. This time I hit pay dirt, as he wasn't able to adjust the full force swing as easily as the jab, and the blow I threw collided with its target. As I stood, I threw my head up hard, hoping to catch his jaw on the way up, and I was glad to hear the crunch that signified my success.
"You fucker!" Paul bit out his hand having raised to his now cracked jaw, his words somewhat slurred. He swung again, this time however, I was completely aware, and ready, my forearm throwing the jab wide, and my wrist rolling over his own, so that my hand could grip tightly to his elbow. Pulling him in, I threw a knee in to his stomach first, forcing the air out of his lungs. As I stepped back when I planted the knee, I pulled with the arm I had around him on the same side, throwing his weight off further. That's when the straight armed compact range Kenpo Punch collided with his sternum, and my left arm released his right, throwing him literally ten feet in to the floor in front of the bar's office door.
Ka-click, was the next sound I heard, coming from my left, as I turned to look down the barrel of an old Smith & Wesson revolver.
A/N: Hey everyone, hope you like the prologue, I know, weird that only Taylor James would show up in a Leyton centric fic's intro right? Nah. Not at all. Because I had to introduce my story teller/shameless self insert character somehow right? I promise, next chapter, there will be PLENTY of Leyton, as well as some Seth/Taylor, which I like to call Saylor. Heh, hope you guys love reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. ~Frank
P.S. Who's got Seth at gun point, and is he gonna get shot? What the hell is taking Taylor in the office? Read Chapter 1: A Raven Comes Home, to find out…