EDIT! Just as an FYI!! I've made many changes to this chapter and to the next because for some weird reason--I decided to write in present tense. And I realized that it was too difficult, making it really unenjoyable to write the third chapter. So, I've fixed this... please forgive me for my grammar. If you see any hideous mistakes, please let me know! I also made a few corrections and tweaked a few phrases. Anyway, CHAPTER 3 WILL BE ON ITS WAY.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone!
Author's note: Hello, readers! I am terrible and I lost all concentration to Three Years Behind, which is definitely a work-in-progress rather than a lost cause. Stay with me, people! I appreciate the feedback, by the way. I thought it would be a cute idea and it's fun playing around with the characters and making up what their past lives could've been like. OFF TOPIC, I know.
This new story is original. I think reading a couple of fanfics where either Nathan or Haley are famous have probably sparked this creativity bug in my brain. I've never tried to write about them this way, so it's a personal challenge, but I'm up for it! I hope you guys enjoy this one. Oh, and obviously the title of the story is from Tyler Hilton's song, "When It Comes". I'm not sure I like it, though. Oh, well.
PS: I'm also still working on Superlatives: Most Unlikely Anything for those who are wondering.
Enjoy,
SJ
Summary: Nathan Scott is America's bad boy bachelor and star player for the North Carolina Bobcats. Haley James is a 21-year-old, high school-educated and dead broke. He's in need of an assistant for his ever-busy life and she's in need of a job to stabilize her life. She packs up her life in D.C. and moves to Tree Hill, N.C. with nothing but hope in her pockets. NH, BL, CP.
(Disclaimer: All character, plots, ideas, etc. related to the television series, One Tree Hill, is rightful property to its owners, writers, and producers.)
CHAPTER 1
The Interview
"So, tell me about yourself. What brings you to Tree Hill, of all places?" He chuckled, but for whatever reason, it remained unclear.
I nervously re-crossed my legs for about the sixth time within the past two minutes, searching for an answer—a good one. My real reason was a bit too personal for my tastes. I smoothed my dress—my newly purchased black wrap around jersey-knit dress that cost me fifty freakin' dollars; an investment, in deed.
"Well, I lived in the D.C. area for quite a while… born and bred, actually. Anyway, I want to expand my horizons, so to speak,"
"Mm hmm…" He briefly glanced at me, his analytical blue eyes staring from above the black frame of his designer glasses. Pushing them back to sit properly on the bridge of his nose, he peered down at the document in his hand.
Shit. He'd lost interest.
"This town isn't exactly known for its ability to expand anyone's horizons, you are aware of that? Miss… Miss—"
"Miss James." I finished his sentence, even though my name is visibly bolded and centered on the resume that he carelessly held. "I'd like to disagree. I aimed for a place not as fast-paced as D.C. was... on purpose," I explained assertively.
"Well, looks like you've come to an appropriate place, then,"
Ugh… what an unreadable person.
"Is there anything else you would like to share, Miss James?"
I let out a short sigh, not wanting to seem bored or, even worse, annoyed. "I'm twenty-one years old. All of my friends are just about ready to graduate from college and branch out into their highly successful careers or start grad school. My circumstances were tough and money was tight, so school was not an option for me. But, I need to be on my own and I know that my credentials are more than suitable—I have decent credit, a clean driving record, no run-ins with the law, no weird history, no nothing. I can cook and clean and if necessary, I have a strong administrative background. All that I'm asking for is a chance to stand on my own two feet, shelter, and food. I… I'm ready for a fresh start."
He smiled at me, but this time, I had a pretty good idea what was behind it.
"Nathan Scott, best known as America's most wanted bad boy bachelor and Shooting Guard for the NC State Bobcats, seems to have gone on a spring break shopping spree. Find out exclusively from E.T. about his recent 1.2 million purchase, after the break,"
He rolled his eyes at the announcement from the overly enthused woman on his plasma TV. Some people really didn't have lives. He couldn't help but to grimace at this person who was basically making a profit from discussing and gossiping about other peoples' lives. He grabbed the remote off the coffee table, cluttered with dirty dishes, video games, and emptied beer bottles. He hastily muted the commercial that was every bit as annoying as the show.
Having grown so sick of living in this pigsty, he actually had half a mind to actually clean it up. He suddenly recalled last night's conversation with his agent, that panicked feeling washing away with a sense of relief. A sickeningly satisfied smirk appeared on his face. Grabbing his house phone, he decided to see how those interviews were going.
"Thank you so much!" I took a firm hold of his hand and shook it eagerly.
There's that polite smile, again. It wasn't exactly like the one he had on his face right before he told me that I was hired. It appeared reserved… possibly guarded. I wasn't sure what to make of it.
"Mr. Scott, you don't know how much this means to me!" I said, as a brushed off the feeling.
"Oh, please, call me Lucas… Luke, whichever you prefer,"
First name basis, huh?
"Oh… okay… well, Lucas, I appreciate this. It was… uh… kind of my only option," I shyly, but happily admitted.
"Don't thank me just yet. Give it about a month or so." He kidded, winking at me. It didn't creep me out, though—no bad vibes. He carried such an air of professionalism. "So, let me go over all the details and what exactly your responsibilities will be, Miss James,"
"Call me, Haley, please." I paused for a moment, realizing that all I knew about this job was that it entailed duties similar to a maid, chef, property manager, and administrative assistant all wrapped up into one. In the job ad, the potential employer had been listed as private. "Details would probably be good. By the way, who exactly will I be working for?"
His eyes faltered for a moment and a breath hitched in his throat, before he quietly answered, "Nathan Scott."
"Hmm… okay…" I say. The name sounded almost familiar. I tried putting my finger on it. "Hey, wait a second!"
"Huh?" Oddly, his voice cracked.
"You two aren't related, are you?" Internally, I hoped that they were related, being that Lucas was so friendly and laid back.
"Actually, we're half-brothers," He answered, letting out a sigh of what seemed to be relief.
"Really? Just a quick question, but what does your brother do? I mean… judging by the 'position' that he needs filled, he must be…" I considered how to say it without being totally inappropriate.
"Filthy rich?" He suggested, earning a whole-hearted laugh from me. Soon enough, we were both laughing, easing that invisible wall between interviewer and interviewee.
"And I thought I was straight forward,"
"You know, Haley, of all the people I've talked to… you are the only one who doesn't seem to know who my brother is,"
A quizzical expression fell on my face. I wasn't sure how to interpret that. Was telling me that I got hired just because I didn't know who Nathan Scott is?
"But, you're also the only person I've met with who seems like a true hard worker and wants to be hired for the right reasons. It helps that you're a very personable person," He added in a very light tone. "And for that reason, I'll be honest with you, since the other candidates were a bit more… knowledgeable about um… well, my brother,"
Okay, now I was beginning to feel just a little confused.
"Is there something I should know?" A billion things ran through my mind. "Is he handicapped? Does he need a caretaker, as well? Because, really, Lucas, I don't mind. I'm willing to do whatever it takes! If he needs help bathing or using the bathroom or changing or whatever it is…" Oh my God. I'm babbling like a retard. Retard? Nice one, Hales. I had a really bad habit of running my mouth off and often, my mind just seemed to follow.
Before he could say anything, and it's obvious he wanted to, a buzzer sounded on his office phone.
"Peyton, the interview is still running," He reminded his secretary gently.
"It's Mr. Scott, your brother, sir," She replied in an almost bitter tone.
"Thank you for calling Scott Talent and Recruitment. This is Peyton speaking, how may I help you?"
"Transfer me to my brother, please,"
"Good afternoon, Mr. Scott. Mr. Scott is actually in an interview at the moment. Can I take a message or should I have him return your call?"
"Peyton, I know that. It's an interview for a live-in assistant for me. So, just transfer me,"
Even though the despicable Nathan Scott wasn't there, standing before her, the look on Peyton's face was just as distorted with disgust as if he was there. She was one of only a few who had discovered just how accurate his publicly displayed persona was portrayed. The two never got along.
According to Lucas, it was great, since Nathan was solely responsible for the resignation of all six previous women. Five had been one night stands who had expected more and the most recent secretary had been an older woman, which Lucas thought would've been strategic. Instead, she got fed up with his younger brother's attitude quickly and decided to return to her retirement, instead.
Peyton was well known in the office for her inability to politely fend off inappropriate and immature boys. She was very experienced due to the fact that she was quite the attractive woman with her exquisite blonde curls and cat-like gray-green eyes. Sometimes, she was mistaken as one of the client models. Lucas would be lying to say that her beauty did not contribute to her qualifications during her interview. But, being the witty and quick-learner (not to mention a Bachelor's in Communications in Design) she was quite an asset to his agency.
"One moment," she answered mechanically, trying to hold back any anger now freely flowing in her veins.
She placed his call on hold, whispering a whole bunch of obscenities, as she intercomed her boss.
Nathan smiled, pleased with himself for yet again, snubbing that front-desk witch. He always had trouble with her.
"Hey, Nate, how are you?"
He flinched, hearing the syrupy of his brother's voice.
"That great, huh?" Nathan asked, smirking as he passed by his bedroom mirror, stopping momentarily to watch his reflection.
"Yes. Great." Lucas answered tersely. Judging by the level of discomfort in his voice, the potential hire was probably sitting just a few feet away.
He flexed his biceps, deciding whether or not he should work on his arms today. Thinking slowly, he then replied, "I can tell. You sound just like our jackass of a father. She must be a hell of a candidate for you to be kissing ass like that already,"
"How do you know it's a she?" Lucas whispered, a hint of venom in his voice.
"What?!" Nathan tore the phone away from his ear and yelled into the receiver, hoping the non-female candidate would hear his voice.
"Alright, Nate, well, I'll catch you later. Gotta go,"
The phone went dead.
He threw the phone onto his unmade bed and sat down on the edge. 'Non-female' assistants would qualify as either gay or fans with stalker-like motives: both being very, very bad.
"Sorry for the interruption,"
I looked up from the fascinating (not really) design on the carpet to give Lucas my full attention. If I had heard correctly, he was talking to his brother AKA my future boss. And... he didn't appear too happy. Something negative seemed to be hanging heavy over this Nathan Scott character. I swore that I had heard screaming over the phone, too.
"Was… uh… that Nathan? Oops… I'm sorry. It's okay that I call him Nathan, right? I just assumed that since you said I can call you Lucas… or Luke… or whatever… that I could… call… him… Nathan?" I could feel the heat radiating from my cheeks. I wished my mom had kept her threat years ago when she said she'd staple my lips shut if I didn't learn when to shut up.
"No, it's fine. In my agency, we all try to go by a first name basis except when we're around clients or newcomers. Don't feel bad. So, let me ask you a question, Haley: do you like it sugar-coated or do you prefer it straight-up?"
"Mm… I'll take the latter," I answered without question.
"Nathan Scott is the star Shooting Guard for the North Carolina Bobcats. He is also my half-brother, but obviously we took different routes in life. So, I ended up founding this agency from the bottom-up. I won't lie. A lot of this corporation's success would not have been possible were it not for my brother's success."
This sounded good.
"Ooh, just a quick question," I loudly interrupted.
"Yes?" He paused to smile.
"The Bobcats are… basketball, right?"
He chuckled and nodded his head up and down.
"I love my brother and I'm sure he loves me, too. Lucky for me, you don't follow-up on athletes and whatever baggage they carry around. But, you see, my brother… he can be difficult at times. Really difficult. It's a challenge to work with him. If you agree to be hired, you'd be his tenth assistant. They all quit."
I felt my mouth slowly open in shock. I mean, how disagreeable could a person be?
"Before you say 'no', Haley… Miss James, here are the benefits: room and rent will be covered, as well as food, insurance, and all other fees you might incur to carry out any of your duties. You'll be given a company car and since travel will be necessary, that will all be covered as well,"
I couldn't really tell, but I thought my jaw had just hinged open completely. Those were some awesome benefits.
"Also, if you are able to work around your schedule with Nathan, which will be busy, we can eventually work out something for you to take classes at any nearby college, fully paid by us,"
"I'M IN!" I screamed without even thinking.
The front glass doors with the white frosted STAR (Scott Talent and Recruitment) Agency emblem swung open and a sharply dressed brunette strode in, confidence exuding through her every step. She gracefully balanced several books and files, along with an oversized Kate Spade tote and a smaller matching purse. Dropping her books onto the front counter, she threw a sideways glance towards Lucas Scott's closed office door.
"Good morning, Miss Davis," Peyton greeted, instantly cheered by her co-worker's presence.
"Good morning, Miss Sawyer. Is he still going through interviews for He-who-should-be-killed?" She questioned disbelievingly. Why he worked so hard for his jackass of a brother was far beyond her comprehension.
"Brooke, you and I both know that if Lucas hires him an assistant, he won't be in this office as much,"
"Very true. How is she/he/it?"
"She—"
"Ugh… figures…"
"She actually doesn't seem so bad—definitely an out-of-towner, dressed really professional, and I, personally, couldn't find a trace of skank on her," Peyton disclosed matter-of-factly.
Brooke's eyes widened signaling surprise at hearing this mystery girl's description.
"How old is she? If she's pushing 40, I doubt she'll last… her patience won't allow it,"
"She's young,"
"Hah! She is most definitely a goner. Who is Luke kidding?"
Brooke was another one of the very few... actually the only other (female, anyway), who knew Nathan Scott for what he was. In her opinion, he could never accumulate enough talent to make up for his pathetic personality—a selfish, egotistical, womanizing sack of shit.
The two girls shared a mutual hatred for their agency's most popular client and boss' brother, thus their ability to truly get along.
"So, when are you coming over to my side of PR?" Brooke asked, redirecting the conversation to a more enjoyable topic.
Peyton sighed wistfully.
This particular topic had been up in the air for several months. Brooke worked in the Designing department for Public Relations, managing everything from wardrobe for her clientele to advertisements for the company, itself. At 26, she was extremely successful with what she did and had been doing for the past five years, first having come on as a summer intern.
Peyton was three years younger and had recently passed her one-year mark as a STAR associate. She was more than ready to move on from the Executive Assistant position and to pursue something along the lines of what she had spent four years studying for.
"The time will come, my dear," Brooke said encouragingly. Lifting her paperwork from the counter, she winked brightly at the curly-haired blonde before walking down the corridor towards her own office.