The Lives We Lead
Synopsis: Caitlyn Masters is a seventeen-year-old teenager who seems to have it all. When she meets four brothers in an unexpected way, she finds herself falling head over heels in love for the first time. But will an infamous serial killer cut the course of true love very short? Leo/OC
Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT! I only own my OCs!
Chapter One: A Day of Firsts and Lasts
"Caitlyn! Hurry up! Gramps has got the car running!" Samuel shouted from the bottom of the stairs.
"I'm coming, Sammy! Keep your hair on!" Caitlyn yelled back, trying her hardest not to roll her eyes at her little brother's impatience. She fixed the veil on her hat once more and then looked back at the mirror.
The young woman before her stood draped in a sea of black, as though she had been swallowed up by the darkness and grief that had settled over her life for this moment in time. Even her chestnut-brown eyes that usually twinkled with life and brightness were now dull and extinguished, as though the form-fitting black skirt and ruffled shirt had choked whatever light had been in them. She felt the tears coming, and she tried to hold them back. However, one of them managed to escape and slide down her cheek, adding to the mourning ensemble she was wearing. She had cried rivers of tears, but somehow her body had reserved a special reservoir of sadness in the form of water streaming down her cheeks for this specific day.
It would be a day of firsts for her. It would also be a day of lasts. A part of her life would be beginning, and simultaneously, another would be laid to rest. She shuddered at the thought of the cold room, smelling heavily of incense and formaldehyde, crowded by mourners draped in black…
"Caitlyn! COME ON!" Sammy yelled, his voice sounding more distant than it had the first time he'd shouted at her.
Sighing and biting back the angry retort that was on her tongue, Caitlyn grabbed her purse and hurried out of her room, the door slamming behind her firmly.
McEvans Funeral Home and Crematorium was located at what was once a famous chapel on the Lower East Side. The towering steeple housed a large, bronze bell that tolled its haunting yet melodious peel throughout the area. It was as though it was peeling out a message; a message of grief, loss, sadness and remembrance. Black town cars, late model and luxury cars and even a few limos lined both sides of the street as waves of mourners dressed in dark clothing swarmed the sidewalks and steps leading into the funeral home.
Henry Masters pulled over to the side of the road across the street from the funeral home. "I'll send Tim to pick you two up for school, alright?"
"Sure, Gramps," Sammy said, unbuckling his seatbelt.
"Bye Grandpa," Caitlyn said as she took up her purse from the seat beside her.
"Hey. Nobody leaves this car without giving this old bag of bones a hug," Henry told them, smiling his crooked smile. It was the one imperfection that Henry refused to have fixed. He said it was the one part of him that people loved to see the most, and Caitlyn couldn't help but agree. The warmth of the smile as well as the refusal to use money to transform him into some perfect, automaton clone of his wealthy counterparts was what made Henry Masters one of the most respected men in the entire city.
"Grandpa!" Samuel whined, rolling his eyes. "I'm thirteen, not three! Can't I just dap you instead or something?"
Their grandfather frowned, the wrinkles in his face suddenly looking more like the skin of an angry bulldog. "Dap? If that's anything like tap, I'll tap you, boy."
Samuel let out an annoyed groan. "Grandpa!"
The aging man sighed. "Alright. Can I at least get a handshake then?"
"Sure," Samuel said before he and their grandfather firmly shook hands.
Henry turned to his granddaughter. "You too grown for hugs too, Katie?"
Smiling, she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly. "Never."
Thin, chapped lips placed a gentle kiss on Caitlyn's cheek as wiry arms draped in expensive, Italian leather encircled the young woman. "Love you kiddo."
Caitlyn kissed her grandpa's cheek. "Love you too, Grandpa."
Samuel groaned again, scowling. "Alright! Enough with the kissy-face crap! Let's go!"
"Hey! Don't say "crap", young man!" Henry snapped.
"Sorry Gramps," Samuel said.
Their grandfather sighed and shook his head. "Kids these days." He looked at his two grandchildren. "Get goin', you two. You're gonna be late."
The two scrambled out of the car and hurried across the street, narrowly missing being hit by a speeding cabbie, who honked his horn loudly at the two and shouted a few choice words in a foreign language.
"Later loser!" Samuel called as he split off from his older sister and went to join a group of his friends waiting at the doors of the chapel.
Caitlyn rolled her eyes before her IPhone buzzed, letting her know that she had a new text message. She unlocked her phone and quickly clicked on the latest message in her inbox.
Saved you a seat behind fam. Hurry up. Service starts in 5. -H
The young woman hurried up the stone steps and into the red-carpeted foyer. Towering columns rose up from the ground, intricate carvings of the Baroque-era decorating the cool stone. Caitlyn followed a group of mourners into what was once the hallowed sanctuary of the church.
The oaken pews lined the large room that was crowded with people dressed in black. The cold room made Caitlyn shiver as she inhaled the sickly sweet mixture of incense, formaldehyde, floral perfumes and death. At the very front of the room stood the brown, wooden casket, polished to a mirror's sheen, surrounded by an abundance of flowers, stuffed animals and photographs of the young woman that rested inside it. Lit candles stood around the coffin, the flickering flames offering little warmth to the cold atmosphere. At the front of the room stood the rostrum, a wooden platform surrounded by stained glass windows depicting various Biblical scenes, scenes that surrounded a glittering, golden cross that rested in the center of what was once the choir pit.
Caitlyn hurried forward and scanned the rows for any telltale sign of her friends. Then, a few rows back from the front of the room, she spotted Heather's signature fedora and scurried beside the pew.
"Caitlyn! You made it!" Regina gushed as she stood up and hugged Caitlyn, who returned the gesture before sitting between her and Heather.
"Just in time, too. They're about to start," Heather whispered as the last few people scrambled to their seats. "What kept you?"
"What else? Traffic," Caitlyn answered as she shrugged out of her fall coat.
A blond-haired girl leaned over from beside Heather, her tanned face lighting up like a Christmas tree when she saw Caitlyn. "Hey girl!" Venice gushed in a low voice. She did a quick up-and-down glance of Caitlyn's outfit before she leaned over and gave a light pat to the girl's hand. "Love the ensemble! Even around the dead, you're still a fashionista."
Caitlyn smiled kindly at the blond. "Thanks Venice!"
"You do look really nice, Cat," Heather said in her ear. "What I wanna know is why."
Caitlyn scoffed and gave her best friend a mocking smirk. "A girl can't look nice for a friend's funeral?"
Heather didn't even smile. Her face was so stony and serious that Caitlyn felt slightly intimidated. "Stop playin', girl. You know as well as I do that you always look great no matter what the occasion. So what gives?"
Sighing, the young woman pushed some hair back behind her ear. "I just thought this outfit would bring out…a new side of me. A side that might be…great to try out."
Heather pressed the tips of her fingers together and held them against her lips, her head tilted upwards, as though praying to God for the strength not to either snap or burst out laughing at the funeral of their dead friend and classmate. "Don't tell me it's for him!" she hissed.
"Who?" Caitlyn asked.
Heather rolled her eyes and moved her hands away from her lips. "Who. This girl knows I'm not stupid and yet she's asking me stupid questions." She turned back to Caitlyn. "You know very well "who" who is."
Caitlyn's eyebrows furrowed. "You mean Omar?" She rolled her eyes and let out a low snort. "Please, Heather. He's not into girls like me."
"You mean the type that don't spread their legs on the first date!" she grumbled. Heather let out a low, frustrated groan and sank back against the pew. "I can't believe you're doing all this just because some Channing Tatum wannabe is acting like he's been wronged by not getting to stick his dick in you."
"Heather, I-"
"Ladies and gentlemen."
Caitlyn looked up and saw a man with the palest, sallowest face and skin standing dressed in heavy black. It was as though Death has been swallowed up by the night and regurgitated into this zombie-like man, whose voice alone was colder than the room they sat in.
"My name is Paul Franklin. I'm the owner of the McEvans Funeral Home and Crematorium. I would like to thank all of you on behalf of the Jackson family for coming out today and showing your support in this dark time. Mr. and Mrs. Jackson," he said, looking at Tamika's parents in the front row, Mr. Jackson holding his sobbing wife in his arms, his face set in stone. "You are incredible people, and I am deeply sorry that the first time we met was under these…unfortunate circumstances. But this is not a funeral, a goodbye; this is a service in memory of a life; the life of Miss Tamika Jackson. We begin with a tribute from her cousin, Miss Georgiana Malcolm."
One by one, the tributes came pouring out like the tears and handkerchiefs and tissues that lay in the laps of the mourners. Caitlyn herself had shed only a few tears so far. It was still a shock to be sitting here, in a cold room that smelled of incense, formaldehyde and death, remembering a girl no older than she was; a girl that she had gone to school with, danced with, laughed with, cried with, for two years. And yet, there was a lot about Tamika she didn't know. Each person who came to the mike came with a little story about the girl in the coffin. Some of them were new to Caitlyn. Others she could recite with the speakers from memory. It was in the stillness of the moment after her aunt had given a tearful memorial to her dead niece that Caitlyn realized that she had only seen and been given pieces of Tamika's life; that the entire picture of the girl she had gone to school with was now coming together at her death in a way that it hadn't in life. It was as though Caitlyn was being introduced to every part of Tamika: the mischievous cousin, the caring niece, the passionate volunteer, even the fierce debater.
When the news had broken, no one wanted to believe it. But when Caitlyn found Flora Jackson sitting underneath the football bleachers, her eyes looking more haunted than any sort of spirit or ghost ever could, she knew the story of Tamika Jackson's death was cold, dead fact.
"We will now have a tribute from Saint Joseph Secondary School's Student Council," Mr. Franklin said.
A young man about seventeen or eighteen years old mounted the side steps and came up to the lectern on the rostrum. His dark hair lay flat on his head with bangs falling into his eyes. They weren't long enough to blind him, but they weren't short enough to be a simple fringe. They were just the right length. Just like his ridiculously long lashes. Do they make mascara for guys? Caitlyn wondered. She knew all the mascara in the world could never give her lashes as beautiful as his.
This wasn't her first time seeing Leonardo Hamato, the student body president. He'd been at some of the rallies and games she and her dance crew performed at. But Caitlyn had always been far off, standing at a distance. Now, she was seeing him up close and personal. And damn, was he gorgeous!
Just then, she got a slight elbow in the side and turned to see Heather give her a quit-looking-like-a-gaping-fish stare before turning back to face the podium that Leo was standing at, gazing down at a piece of paper in front of him.
"To know Tamika was to know that every day would bring a new surprise. Student Council could be a place of tension at times," he said. His voice wasn't very deep, but it was still that of a young man. It was also soft in tone yet strong, clear but not overpowering. He had the voice training that took some speakers a lifetime to master.
"But Tamika's quick wit and creativity made those times bearable, even… enjoyable. She was warm, caring, and loved to party. She was amazing at coming up with new and innovative ideas on how we could bring our school together in the spirit of fun and camaraderie. I only saw Tamika a few times outside of Student Council. But every time I saw her, she would tell me a new fact, the latest gossip or even one of her infamous stories of her childhood growing up in a small town where cow-tipping was considered an Olympic sport."
Caitlyn couldn't help but chuckle at that. It had been a constant in Tamika's stories about small-town life. Leo's lips twitched into a smile, and he looked up from his paper straight out into the audience.
Straight at Caitlyn.
A few other people also chuckled at the reference while others simply smiled through their tears and tissues. But Caitlyn hardly noticed them. All she could see were the dark bangs falling charmingly into his eyes, eyes that Caitlyn had never seen before. They were bluer than the clearest waters of the sea, but yet warm, soothing, inviting; like a crackling fire in the midst of a winter blizzard. The black suit he wore fit him incredibly well, snug enough to show the muscles in his arms and the strength of his toned yet muscular chest, which was hidden beneath a pristine, white shirt. It didn't matter if people thought she looked like a gaping fish on a hook.
She could see now why some of the girls at Saint Joe's swooned whenever he passed them in the hallways. His gaze was hypnotic, enchanting. Heather could've decked her with a knockout punch that would stun Ali, and Caitlyn wouldn't have noticed. All she could see was the young president, Leonardo Hamato, standing up on the podium.
And all Leo could see was her. Then, he glanced slightly to his right out of the corner of his eye, and immediately, the gaze was broken, the look was gone, and his face became sombre once more.
"Tamika added a lively presence to the Council and this school that can never be replaced. She was taken from us much too soon, and in a senseless way. The person who did this didn't just take away a daughter, a sister, a friend; they took away a leader, a creator, a young woman with the potential to turn the world upside down with just a few words and a sweet smile. I'll never forget you, Tamika. And neither will the rest of us."
Stepping down from the podium, Leo crossed the floor to where the casket stood, where the body of their classmate lay, dressed in the gown that she would've worn to the prom that year. Leo rested his hand above the center of the casket gently, reverently, as if he was afraid to disturb Tamika's rest. Then, he started speaking again, only this time in Japanese.
"Sore ga watashitachi no ue ni jōshō suruto san wa, anata no jinsei ni settei sa rete imasu. Yasuraka ni, watashi no yūjin. Anata wa itsumo aisa rete imasu."
Tamika's mother began to sob again, which set off a chorus of sniffles, whimpers and streams of tears. Venice blew her nose as softly as she could while choking back a sob. Caitlyn too felt the tears rolling down her cheeks as she watched Leo's free hand clench into a fist. He glanced up and his eyes met with hers again. She knew he could see her tears, and the protective look in his eyes made her feel safe, secure. It was as though he wanted to come and sit with her, gently wipe away her tears, and speak soothing words to her in the tongue of his ancestors. Then, he wiped away a few stray tears from his own eyes and returned to his spot in a pew on the other side of the sanctuary.
"That was so beautiful!" Regina whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. She fished into her handbag for a silk handkerchief and, upon finding it, wiped her eyes, smearing the pristine, white cloth with dark streaks of mascara. "I knew I voted for Leo for a reason! He's so sweet and caring and sensitive!"
"He certainly knows how to put it down," Heather added.
Caitlyn leaned forward a little and saw Leo sitting next to three other boys and a girl with short, dark hair on his right. She tried to see who it was, but the elaborate height and lace of an older woman's hat obscured her view. Defeated, she sat back and gazed up as Mr. Franklin now stood at the podium.
"Now, we will have Flora Jackson come up and speak to us," he said, his monotone voice sending unpleasant shivers down Caitlyn's spine.
Flora stood up from her seat in the front pew and walked to the platform. The hem of the black dress she wore dragged on the floor, her bony frame somehow managing not to sink under its weight. Usually, the fiery, redheaded girl would've had a mischievous look in her eyes, a wry grin, maybe even a sly wink. None of those were present. Sunken cheeks, large, dark circles under her eyes, pale, clammy-looking skin greeted Caitlyn, who shrank back a little in horror at the living corpse that was once a vibrant, thirteen year old.
Everyone knew Tamika's death had hit Flora hard. What no one could have predicted was how much damage it had caused.
"Tamika…she could be a pain," Flora said, her tone flat, monotonous, a reflection of her "living dead" state. "I guess that was her job as a big sister: be a pain, nag me constantly about doing my schoolwork, scare off any boys that came around. I told her once that she should just become a boy since she was doing everything a brother was supposed to."
Caitlyn and her friends smiled at the memory of Tamika in the role of the "concerned, bossy older sister", especially after dance rehearsals.
Flora's cheeks glittered with tears, tears that she didn't bother wiping away. "I remember one time, I snuck out to a party. And this guy…well…after I told him I wasn't interested, he…he followed me out of the house and…cornered me in an alley. Just when I thought he was going to rape me, you showed up, Tammy. Showed up and kicked his ass before giving me the biggest lecture of my life."
Her tiny frame was shaking as the tears continued to flow. "But I wasn't listening. And it wasn't…it wasn't because I didn't care. It was because…that night, I saw you not as a nagging, big sister, but…but as my guardian angel. And now…" Flora's breathing began coming in gasps, the tears rolling down her cheeks, faster and faster. "Now…someone took you away…and I…I wasn't there! I wasn't there when you…you…screamed for him to…to…stop, when he…when he hurt you…when you…you…you needed…."
A wild scream echoed throughout the room, and the dam broke. Flora hurled down the small steps and flung her body onto the coffin, tears running down like a flood. Her mother only sobbed harder as a tall man who could only be Flora's father rushed forward and tried to pull his daughter into his arms, probably to comfort her. Flora broke free from him and clung to the casket tightly, as though she would die if she was pulled away from it, sobbing uncontrollably.
"I'm sorry, Tammy! I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you when you needed me! I'm sorry that I couldn't be your guardian angel! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry! Please forgive me! Please forgive me, Tammy! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'M SORRY!"
Mr. Franklin and her father finally managed to get her off of Tamika's casket, the younger girl looking as though she was about to collapse. Her eyes were red and swollen, but the tears kept coming as if there was a secret reservoir of them deep within her soul.
"Wait!" Flora managed to choke out. The two men's grips tightened in case she planned to run back to the casket. "I…I want…I want Caitlyn to come up and talk about my sister."
"Me?" Caitlyn repeated, her eyes wide with shock and embarrassment as every pair of eyes in the room now landed on her. "Flora, I…I really don't know if I…"
"Go on, Cat," Heather said, nudging her friend's leg with hers. "You can do it."
"It doesn't have to be a speech like Leo's," Regina added. "Just…go up there and tell them what Tamika meant to you and the dance team."
"I…I don't know. I've never done something like this before, and…"
"If you're gonna do it, could you go up sometime today, Cat?!" a snide voice from two rows behind sneered.
Heather whirled around and glared at the toffee-haired girl who'd spoken. "Clara, shut it!" she hissed. "This is the one time I will not be afraid to brawl with you beside a coffin!"
Caitlyn placed a gentle hand on her friend's leg. "It's OK, Heather." Then, she stood up, smoothed down her skirt, and walked up to the lectern, keenly aware of a certain someone's eyes trained on her.
Leo's POV
He watched the young woman approach the rostrum. Even though she was draped in black, she still looked ethereally beautiful. The veil on her hat draped elegantly over her forehead, hiding eyes of a chestnut-brown that might have sparkled with a vibrant light had it not been for the solemnness of the occasion. The outfit she had chosen was simple and yet classy, clinging nicely to the smooth curves of her dancer's body.
He'd seen her before in the hallways and such, but this was the second time he'd really noticed her. The first time had been when he'd gone to Raph's football game last Friday. During halftime, she and her team had performed a stellar routine that'd gotten the crowd pumped for an incredible second half where once again, his brother had been the hero that saved the day. Even though he'd been focused on his younger brother, he couldn't help but steal a few glances at the young head of the dance squad, which Mikey, up until a few days ago, had never let him forget.
Caitlyn. That's what Flora called her. He wondered what she was like outside of the grace and fluidity of dance. His ninjitsu training had included the basics of sensing auras, and from what he was picking up, hers had a warmth that felt so safe, so inviting, that it was hard to resist not simply wrapping himself in it. But he did resist. It would be unfair to the young woman sitting beside him, whose hand he was holding, to get so caught up in another girl's aura.
But still, he couldn't help but be drawn to Caitlyn, even though he barely knew her. He wanted to be there for her as a friend and a shoulder to lean on. He knew that Tamika's death had been a harsh blow for the dance team, and the young captain's face was tear-stained, the saltiness of her sadness mixed with the dark streaks of mascara that had lightly smudged at the corners of her eyes.
But even in grief, she was beautiful.
Leo shook his head slightly. He had to stop thinking about her like that. For the sake of what and whom he held near and dear to him, she could only ever be a friend.
"Tamika…Tamika was one of those people who you knew was going to light up the room before you even asked her to turn on a light," Caitlyn said, her soft yet strong tone echoing through the room, channelled by the small, black microphone. "She was… she loved to dance, and any time I needed her to cover for me, she would always say, "Aye aye Captain!" But what's a Captain without a second-in-command? One who would always…who would always take on the biggest challenges, no questions asked. Tamika wasn't just a team member or a second-in-command. She was…she was my rock, my girl, my…my…."
The tears stung her eyes and singed her cheeks as they travelled down them and bubbled under her chin. She bit down on her lip, the floodgates still running down her face as she tried her best to keep the heaving sobs trapped inside her mourning body. She gripped the lectern tightly with her left hand as she battled desperately to keep her composure.
Just then, she felt a warm, tight grip on her free hand. She looked up and saw that Leonardo Hamato was standing beside her, her right hand encased in his larger one. He gave her a small smile and her hand a brief but tight squeeze.
"Hey. It's OK," he whispered to her, his tone so soft and soothing that it took everything in Caitlyn's power not to rest her head on his shoulder. "It's OK. Alright?"
She nodded dumbly and felt something large, warm and solid resting on the small of her back. Then, it began to move up and down, lightly, a gentle and comforting gesture that felt as soothing as a warm bath with lavender oil and as strong as a steel beam. His touch renewed her strength and steadied her raging heartbeat.
"No one deserves to have their life cut so short like this; especially not someone with the type of spirit, livelihood and kindness that Tamika had. And after the Hell you suffered at the hands of this monster, my only prayer is that you're at peace right now. You were more than just a team member, Tamika Jackson. You were our sister. And we'll never forget you."
Leo went down the steps first and held out his hand for Caitlyn to take. Gingerly she took it and came slowly down the stairs, her eyes never leaving Leo's blue eyes, his never breaking the gaze for even a moment. Then, hands still joined, he led her over to the coffin, tears still streaming down the young woman's face. Her grief mingled with the heart-racing reality of Leonardo Hamato holding her hand, comforting her in front of witnesses.
Caitlyn pressed her index and middle fingers to her lips before she lowered them onto the coffin at head level, pressing them tightly against the cold wood.
"Goodbye, my love," she whispered. "I'll see you again. Someday."
The grip on her hand tightened, Leo's fingers almost locking with hers as she allowed two of her tears to fall onto the wood, a final parting gift from one grieving friend to the girl she'd come to love like a sister.
"You gonna be OK?" Leo asked.
Sniffling, Caitlyn wiped her face with her free hand and looked up into his blue eyes. Their gazes locked, and she felt a strong warmth radiating from him. Despite the tears, the cold room, the sickening sweet aroma of incense, formaldehyde and death, a small smile graced her lips as she nodded. "Yeah."
"We can take it from here, Leo," Heather said, who had appeared at Caitlyn's side as if out of thin air. Leo nodded and transferred the young woman to her friend before going back to his seat. Supporting her friend, Heather walked a still-weeping Caitlyn back to her pew where Regina and Venice were waiting, eyes glittering with tears.
"Thank you all for coming today," Mr. Franklin said. "We will be proceeding to the cemetery. For those who'd like to join us to say one final goodbye to Tamika, we will be travelling to Allendale Cemetery. As a funeral procession, we do not have special privileges and ask that those who will be following the hearse to the cemetery to adhere to all traffic signals and rules. On behalf of the staff of McEvans Family Funeral Home, we thank you for your support. God bless."
The organist began to play, the haunting music echoing from the large, towering pipes as everyone stood to their feet. Six men dressed in black walked down the center aisle, one of whom Caitlyn recognized as Mark Fisher, the star quarterback of Saint Joe's football team. With his muscular build, blond hair and blue eyes, he was the all-American dream boy every guy wanted to be and every girl wanted to be with. Tamika and Mark had been going out practically since the first day of ninth grade. Caitlyn had always envied Tamika for having such a devoted and loyal boyfriend; a boyfriend whose eyes today were red and raw from sobbing.
Gently, the men took the handles of the casket and slid it off of its resting perch. Then, turning in sync, they raised it above them, placing it on their shoulders. Then slowly, steadily, they walked out of the sanctuary, followed closely by Mrs. Jackson, who was being half-carried by her husband, Flora, who was still crying into a soaked handkerchief, and the rest of the family members who would be going to the cemetery to say one final goodbye.
Caitlyn, her friends and the other mourners waited for the last of the family to leave the sanctuary before they begun to file out into the foyer of the church, some still weeping, others talking to friends or acquaintances. The crowds were thick with people and voices, and Caitlyn found herself separated from Heather, Venice and Regina as she exited the church. Leaning on a stone column outside near one of the fire exits, she waited until she saw Heather's fedora in the crowd.
"Girls! Over here!" she shouted, waving an arm in the air. Her friends managed to fight their way over to the young woman and watched as the crowds dispersed, many heading for the double doors of the chapel, some standing in small groups and talking.
Heather gave Caitlyn a one-armed squeeze. "You did a great job, Cat."
Venice wiped away some more tears from her eyes with her handkerchief. "Girl! How did you keep so calm up there? I would've been bawling like a newborn baby!"
"It wasn't easy, believe me," Caitlyn replied.
Regina elbowed her in the side playfully, smirking. "I'll bet it helped having El Presidente up there with you!"
"Yeah. Did you guys, like, plan that or something?" Heather asked, part teasing and part serious.
Caitlyn shook her head. "No. We've barely spoken to each other. But it was really nice of him to do that."
Venice smiled and put her handkerchief away. "That's Leonardo Hamato for you: a guy with a heart of gold."
"Where is he anyways?" Caitlyn asked.
Venice quickly scanned the crowd, head bobbing and weaving, teeth biting down lightly on her tongue as she focused on finding the young man in question. Then, she smiled and pointed. "Over there!"
Caitlyn followed her finger and saw Leo standing with three other boys near a column by one of the doors to the sanctuary. She could only see the tops of their heads thanks to the constant movement of the crowds of mourners, and since Leo has his back to them, she only caught flashes of blond, brown and raven-black hair on the other boys.
"Who're those guys he's with?" Regina asked.
Heather stood up on her tiptoes and caught a quick glance of them over the hats of the older women in the foyer. "They must be his brothers. They're almost always together."
"I should go over there and thank him," Caitlyn said, weaving and ducking her head around the shapes of passing mourners to keep Leo and his brothers in her sights.
Heather snorted and barely resisted rolling her eyes. "Thank him? For what? Acting like a decent human being?"
"Exactly."
The brunette crossed her arms and gave her the signature, stern, motherly warning look that she'd had ever since they'd met in middle school. "Caitlyn…"
Caitlyn sighed and began making her way through the crowds to where Leo and his brothers were standing. "Just a few minutes, Heather. I promise."
Heather sighed. "Alright, fine!"
The other three girls followed after Caitlyn, weaving their way through the sea of men in expensive suits on cellphones and women, young and old draped in large, over-decorated hats, designer suits and dresses, and expensive, glittering jewellery, gossiping and staring into compact mirrors. The boys hadn't noticed them approaching them yet, probably because Leo and the blond boy had their backs to them, blocking the other two from view.
"…can't quit, can you? I can't even get one day of peace from this!" Leo snapped.
"Yer day of peace ended when you activated yer Player Card with dat cute dancer," the brown-haired boy said. His face was obscured from Caitlyn's line of vision, so she couldn't see who it was clearly.
"I gotta admit: those were some pretty smooth moves, bro!" the blond chuckled, giving Leo a thumbs-up. "All up there holding her hand, rubbing her back. Nice!"
"Mikey, would you drop it?!" Leo snapped, rolling his eyes. "I was just comforting her. That's all! I mean, she was crying and I just…she just looked like she needed some support."
"Umm…she has a name, thank you very much!" Venice jumped in, causing all four boys to whirl around and come face to face with the girls.
Leo looked at Caitlyn, meeting her eyes for what must have been the tenth time that day. "Sorry. I meant no disrespect. I just…"
"Caitlyn," she said.
Leo's eyebrows furrowed. "Excuse me?"
"My name," she replied. "It's Caitlyn. Caitlyn Masters."
"Henry Masters' granddaughter?" the raven-haired boy asked.
"Yes. You know my grandfather?" Caitlyn asked.
"Well, I've read about him in the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal. He's a philanthropist and a stockbroker. And a very good one." Caitlyn hadn't even noticed that she'd taken a step back until the boy's eyes widened. "Sorry. I shouldn't have just jumped on you like that with all that information. I'm not a stalker, I swear! I just… like to know things and learn new information and…"
The brown-haired boy (whom Caitlyn now recognized as Raphael Hamato) quickly slapped a hand over the other boy's mouth. He immediately stopped talking, his cheeks a bright shade of red. Raph dropped his hand.
"Thanks," the raven-haired boy said, his cheeks turning redder.
Raphael smirked. "Dat's my job, Einstein."
The boy who'd been talking so much turned back to Caitlyn. "Sorry. Let's start this over again." He held out his hand. "My name's Donatello. I go by Don or Donnie. I'm Leo's brother. And I'm not a stalker."
Caitlyn smiled and shook hands with Don. "Nice to meet you. This is Heather, Venice and Regina," Caitlyn said, pointing out each of her friends.
"Very nice to meet you all," he replied, nodding his head. His eyes landed on Venice, and he smiled shyly, the red in his cheeks deepening. "Hey Venice."
Venice smiled shyly, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "Hi."
Caitlyn looked from Don to Venice and then back to Don again. Her eyebrows furrowed. "You two know each other?"
Raph smirked. "Course they do. Everybody knows Venice. Ain't dat right, V?"
Venice's face blanched, her smile vanished, and she lowered her gaze to the ground.
"Raphael!" Leo snapped, his eyes narrowed. Then, he turned to Venice and his features softened. "Please forgive my brother for offending you, Venice. Sometimes he doesn't think before he speaks."
"No surprise there," Heather muttered. Raph turned a murderous gaze on her, one which Heather threw right back at him. Regina tried her hardest not to sigh at Heather getting into it with another jock. It seemed the girl always had a bone to pick with one of them. Why that was remained a mystery.
The blond-haired boy jumped in front of Donatello, hand extended for a handshake. "Hey dudettes! I'm Mikey!"
He had cute dimples on full display with a splash of freckles on his cheeks. His baby-blue eyes were round and adorable. Among his brothers, he looked like a sapling next to three, great oaks. However, he still towered over the girls by at least two inches. He looked at Caitlyn and smirked as they shook hands. "At least now I can put a name to the face of the girl Leo's got the hots for!"
Leo's face turned red as a polished tomato. "Michelangelo!"
Mikey grinned sheepishly and stepped back behind the protection of his brother.
"So you're all named after the Renaissance masters?" Caitlyn asked.
"Yeah. Pretty much," Donatello replied. "Our father chose the names."
"That is so cool! But I don't know much about Donatello," Venice said, her bright, cheery smile back on her face. She sighed, hands clasped against her heart. "I think he's the most mysterious of the four."
Don's face lit up like a Christmas tree, lights, ornaments and all the holiday trappings. "Mysterious?! Really?!" Then, he blushed and coughed before taking on a "cool" tone. "I mean…mystery is fascinating. Very fascinating."
Raph rolled his amber eyes and gave Donatello a light smack to the back of the head. "Give it up, Count Lame-lua! Yer supposed ta be a genius, not a Mikey clone!"
Mikey scowled. "Hey! I resent that!"
Raph snorted. "Resent it all ya like, cheeseball. It's still true."
"Leonardo. There you are," a female voice said.
Caitlyn turned and saw a girl about their age coming towards them. She wore a beautiful, black dress that clung nicely to her athletic frame. Her green eyes and pouty, pink lips were perfectly highlighted with the lightest touches of makeup. And…her short, black hair was a perfect bob that circled her face.
Short hair. Caitlyn's mind began to race. This had to be the girl who'd been sitting beside Leo.
Leo smiled and looped an arm around the girl's shoulders. "Oh. Hey Karai." Caitlyn felt something within her deflate like a balloon losing air. Her hopes? Her fantasies? Her heart? She didn't know what it is, but it was making her stomach sink deeper into her body. "Have you met Caitlyn and her friends?"
Karai's eyes flicked over the four girls, immediately dismissing them as unimportant. "I've seen them around." She turned back to Leo. "But right now, all that matters is that Father's invited you over for dinner tonight."
Leo sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Look, Karai. I already told your father I'm not interested in being an instructor at his dojo. He needs to drop this!"
"He knows skill and talent when he sees it, Leo," she said. Then, she got a seductive look on her face as she moved closer to him, slowly, gracefully, like a cobra poised and ready to strike. "And so do I."
She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her for a kiss. Their lips met, and she buried her fingers in his hair as he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back. She pulled him against her and pushed her tongue between his lips, meeting his own and beginning a slow, passionate dance with it.
Mikey rolled his eyes and stuck a finger down his throat, pretending to gag. "Ugh! Get a damn room, you two!"
"Ladies. I think that's our cue to make our exit," Regina said as Leo and Karai broke apart.
"Yeah," Mikey said, wincing when he saw the slightly hurt look on Caitlyn's face and the smug smirk Karai was currently sporting along with Leo's arm around her slim waist. "That'd probably be a good idea."
Venice seized Caitlyn's wrist and began pulling her away, shooting a parting look at the brothers, her eyes lingering on Donatello for a fraction of a second more than the others. "Come on, Kat. Let's jet."
Caitlyn raised her hand in a half-hearted wave. "Nice meeting you guys."
Heather shot Karai a death glare that the martial artist returned without hesitating. "Well most of you, anyways." With that, she turned on her heel and hurried after Caitlyn, Regina and Venice.
"Bye girls! See ya around!" Mikey shouted, waving at them.
"So…you'll re-think dinner tonight with my father?" Karai asked, holding Leo's hands in hers.
Leo sighed and looked into her eyes with a slight smile on his lips. "Alright. I'll think about it."
Karai smiled back. "Good. See ya later." She pecked him on the lips and turned to walk away when she noticed Leo's brothers staring at her, their faces identical in terms of disapproval and disbelief. "Boys." Then, she sauntered off to find her friends.
"Leo, what da Hell! Ya said ya didn't wanna take da job, and now ya are!" Raph snapped.
Leo rolled his eyes and frowned at Raph. "I never said I was taking it! I just…it won't hurt to hear him out!"
Don shook his head in disbelief, his eyes tinged with a glint of anger in them. "Are you hearing yourself right now? You're going to Oroku Saki's house for him to try and recruit you for training his students! It's crazy, Leo!"
Mikey shook his head. "Dad's not gonna be happy about this, bro. And you know it."
"Come on, guys. He'll understand why I'm doing this. I mean, he's fine with me dating Karai."
"No. You and Little Miss Foot over there, he's toleratin'. And only 'cause you convinced him dat she wasn't a danger ta us," Raph said, arms crossed over his broad chest, which was slightly strained against the white, button-up shirt he'd been forced into for the funeral. "But dis? Dad's gonna put his foot down. No pun intended."
The eldest brother sighed. "Guys. I appreciate the concern, I really do. But this is my decision. Don't worry. I won't let Saki talk me into anything. Promise."
Raph snorted. "It ain't Saki ya gotta worry about talking ya into somethin'."
Leo gave his brother an exasperated look. "Would you relax, Raph? I've got this."
"If you say so," Raph muttered.
The silence that followed was heavy, tense, one that was rare among the four. They'd had fights before about plenty of things plenty of times. But the ugliness of this silence felt like it was slowly but surely choking the life out of their brotherly bond.
"So…how hot are Caitlyn's friends?!" Mikey said, his face brightening like a lit candle at the change of topic he'd brought up. "Especially that Regina chick! She's smokin'!"
Don face-palmed. "I don't believe this, Mikey! You barely even know the girl, and you're already crushing on her?!"
Mikey bit back a laugh but failed to hide the smirk on his face. "Please, Don! Don't think I didn't see you checking out that girl! What was her name? Venezuela or something?"
"It's Venice! Venice Miller!" Don snapped.
"How do you know that?" Leo asked.
"We have Physics and AP History together," Don replied.
Raph gazed at the red-haired girl standing near the chapel doors with her friends, a lecherous grin on his face. "Heard she's a wild one."
Don's face morphed from bashful to thunderous in an instant. He swung a fist at Raph who easily dodged it. He whirled around only to find himself restrained by Leo.
"Get your head out of the gutter, Raphael! She's nothing like that!"
Raph in a rare show of concern (or was it fear) took a step back, the grin gone from his face. "Yeesh! I'm sorry, Einstein! No need to get so defensive!"
Don exhaled loudly and slumped in Leo's arms, signalling to his brother that he'd calmed down. Leo stepped back from Don, enough to give him the space he needed but close enough that he could get to Don before Don's fist got to Raph's face. "I'm not being defensive. I'm just…sticking up for her. She's a really nice girl, and people just… it's easy to misunderstand her."
"If you say so," Raph said.
Mikey turned to Leo, his face lighting up with his infamous, mischievous grin. "So Leo. What do you think of Caitlyn?!" he teased.
Leo rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated groan. "How many more times do I have to say it before it seeps into your skull, Mikey?! I. Am. Not. Crushing. On. Caitlyn! I have a girlfriend, remember?"
"Unfortunately, we do," Raph said.
Leo ignored the dig. "Good. Now come on. We've got to get to homeroom on time. I'll drive."
Raph scoffed out loud, but he was torn between being pissed at his brother's dumb offer or laughing at it because it was that ridiculous. "Please! If you drive, we ain't gonna get dere 'til next semester! I'm takin' da wheel dis time!"
"Dad took your keys to the car, remember?!" Don said. "After the sixth time you got a speeding ticket!"
Raph jangled a set of car keys in front of Don's face, smirking. "Dat's why I'm borrowing yours!" Then, he took off like a lightning bolt through the now-nearly empty corridor of the funeral towards the street where their car was parked.
"I call shotgun!" Mikey shouted, running after Raph.
"Raphael! Get back here!" Don snarled, chasing after Mikey, who screamed his signature high-pitched, girly scream and sprinted out the doors after Raph, who was laughing and running down the street. Leo made it to the doors and saw his brothers running down the sidewalk, weaving in and out of pedestrians like children playing tag on a playground.
"Cut it out you guys!" Leo yelled. When he saw that his brothers were either too far out of earshot or just didn't care, Leo sighed and shook his head before he jogged down the steps and broke into a run to catch up with them. "It sucks being the oldest."
Translation: The Sun has set on your life as it rises on ours. Rest in peace, my friend. You are loved always.