Chapter 2: New home
Faythe's POV
After recording, the guys rush into the studio commenting on how great the song was, how amazing my voice is, etc. They're all really sweet, and completely supportive considering they've only just met me.
The dark-skinned woman – Kelly, I think her name is – and Gustavo say goodbye to us all as we start to head out again. Hanging onto Logan's T-shirt, I flinch at every corner we turn, expecting Miguel to be lurking, ready to come at me again. Sensing this, Logan turns to the biggest man I've ever seen near the exit of the building.
"Hey, Freight Train. Do you think you can escort us to the Limo? Just to calm her a little?"
"Sure thing, Logan," the guy replies.
I stare up at him in wonder and slight fear. "Freight Train, huh?" He smiles. "It suits you." Logan chuckles next to me.
I take a deep breath as we push through the doors to the outside world that I haven't known in two years. I didn't get to appreciate just how colourful, how bright everything is here when I was running from Miguel – I was more concerned about staying alive.
Logan directs me to a black stretched Limo, and I can't help but gawk at it. After all these years living as something less than a person, and now I'm being driven around in a Limo. A girl could get used to this.
My brother holds the door open for me while the guys use the door on the other side. Logan and I sit ourselves down on the real leather seats facing the front of the car, and the others face us. My jaw muscles seem to have stopped working as I stare open-mouthed at the plush-ness that is the car I'm sitting in. Logan reaches behind him, opening what looks like a cooler built into the door, and pulls out a bottle, raising it up to me.
"Orange juice, my lady?" he smirks.
I think something really intelligent like "Uh" comes out of my mouth. All of them laugh at me, and I duck my head, embarrassed.
"But seriously though," the blonde one says. "I cannot believe you have a voice like that. You really should be in the music industry."
"Thanks," I smile sheepishly at him. "I might actually take you up on that…um…" I trail off, hoping he'll get the picture.
Thankfully, he does, and his eyes widen. "Oh, my God, guys! We didn't even do introductions! I'm Kendall." He sticks his hand out, and I take it, shaking it once. Huh, nice smile, gentleman, nice hair. He's pretty cute.
The Latino with the dark eyes and short dark hair is next. "Carlos." We shake hands too. Not my type, but still really nice.
And last is…him. With his melted chocolate and caramel eyes, his silky dark brown hair that I'd love to run my fingers through, his slightly-tanned skin smoother than anything I've ever seen, and his smile that stops even the LA sun in its tracks. He takes my hand differently to the others, gently holding the edges of my fingers, like he's about to kiss my knuckles. Oh, please do.
"James."
As some freaky electricity short-circuits in my hand, I relish in the softness of his voice, like a caress, and much lower than the voice he had used when he got me the water.
You're noticing his voice patterns? My brain interrupts my moment. A) You've only just met the guy, and B) you've just got out of a hell on earth that had, oh yeah, guys, and you're already on the look-out? You work fast.
I'm interrupted from grimacing at myself as Logan's voice calls out. "Here we are." I remove my hand from James', avoiding everyone's eyes. Especially his.
The boys get out first, and James holds the car door open for me. Okay, he is making me feel really easy – I cringe at the word – because I'm almost swooning at the guy; a) he's a gentleman, and those are really hard to find in our generation, (So true; it's depressing really) and b) he's gorgeous.
But, of course, my logic system kicks in again, my self-preservation enhanced by these last two years:
Hello? He's gorgeous, that probably means he's either got some Hollywood-star girlfriend or he's a player.
Both of which mean I have zero chance with him; I'm definitely no star, and I don't do that short-term test-run-then-getting-dumped-for-another-girl-anyway relationship. Especially not now.
For this reason, I lean more towards Logan than James, clinging on to my brother's T-shirt again as we make our way into the fancy-looking sand-coloured building. Logan's hands cover mine in support as we enter the lobby of what looks like a really nice hotel. (Please don't burn me if I get a few details wrong. And my apologies if I get the orientation wrong; on Youtube the video has to be reflected so as to not breach copyright.) The red carpeted floor looks really soft to walk on, the colour a tasteful combination with the plush dark-brown seats by a set of glass doors and windows to my left, with the coffee-tables in the middle of each seating group the same dark glossy wood as the reception desk to my right.
All in all, it seems almost as welcoming as my brother's friends have been.
"Kendall!"
I try not to flinch at the sudden noise in the relatively quiet lobby – there are only a few people sitting in this area – and instead turn towards the source. A girl not much taller than me – finally; someone who is as small as my measly 5'5" – and obviously of Asian descent is beaming and walking towards my new blonde friend, her dark brown eyes shimmering even more because of the sun reflecting from her glasses lenses.
Kendall grins back at her. "Hey, Kira!" Kendall meets her in the middle of her path, embracing her tightly. Huh, guess he's taken then. As they separate, she grabs his forearms, her entire being almost buzzing with excitement and happiness.
"Guess who got that computer-hacker part she really wanted in that film she auditioned for?" (For the person who this character is supposed to be: please don't burn me. I tried to think of the industry that suited you best and then which part you'd really want. I mean no offense. Besides; hackers are cool :D)
Kendall's eyes widen. "Oh, my God, seriously? Kira, that's amazing!" He pulls her into his arms again as she grins over his shoulder, obviously ecstatic about her achievement. She then spots me over his shoulder, and her smile slips significantly. She pulls away from Kendall, not taking her eyes off me.
"Uh…those bruises are fake and for a movie…right?"
Kendall looks kind of sheepish as she looks to him for reassurance and I do the same with my brother; his lips turn up at the corners sadly as he gently pulls me further into his side. Tucking my chin to try and hide my face with my hair, I lift my eyes to Kira again. Her hand is resting at the base of her throat, her face a picture of horror.
"Oh, my god," she breathes. She looks back to Kendall, as if still willing him to falsify her assumption. He remains awkwardly and sorrowfully silent, turning to face me with guilt and sympathy written over his face. In an attempt to make him feel better for Kira inquiring about me, I shrug in a way to communicate 'someone was bound to notice eventually'.
"Kira," Logan speaks softly, almost as if not to disturb me, "this is my twin sister, Faythe. A bunch of…jerks have done this to her for two years, but she's away from them now. Any more information than that Faythe can tell you when: a) she's better rested, and b) she's ready to tell you."
"Sure, yeah, of course," Kira nods fervently, thankfully understanding that I do not really wish to advertise what happened to me just yet. She seems to think about approaching me but, again thankfully, changes her mind and softens her eyes and voice as much as possible in replacement.
"I'm here if and whenever you need to talk, okay, Faythe? Whenever you're ready, and there's no rush."
Almost tearing up at her kindness, I smile, hoping it doesn't look as wobbly as it feels, and nod at her in acceptance and thanks. After spending so long with the worst of the worst in society, it's sadly shocking when I realise how genuinely nice people can be.
Kira leaves, saying something about her first scene shooting and glancing sympathetically at me as she walks past. With Logan rubbing my left shoulder with his arm slung around me, I'm guided towards the front desk, empty at the moment, but with the computer running and a cup of coffee by its side. Kendall taps the bell that's used to call for service, and leans one elbow on the desk. A head peeks out of the door to the left of the desk – a fairly chubby one with thick-framed rectangular glasses and a boring mass of dark hair stuck on top – and scowls at us all.
"Oh, it's you boys."
Okay, so maybe not everything at this place is welcoming. I turn to Logan, smiling slightly. "You're popular," I accuse.
"It's their fault," Logan nods his head to his friends, half-succeeding in keeping a straight face.
I giggle quietly. "It always is."
The other boys all grin at me before Kendall turns back to the head, opening his arms wide and making his voice bright. "Bitters, my man! Have you been working out? Wow, you look great –"
"You can only see my head," Bitters points out, and I smother a smile behind my brother's arm.
"And doesn't your head look great? Listen, we need a favour," he pauses to gesture to me. "This is Faythe Mitchell, Logan's sister, and –"
"Never seen her face and never seen or heard her name on the TV or radio, so she's not staying here." Bitters starts retreating into his office again.
"Ahhh, but Bitters, she's new to the music scene." Kendall beckons the guy closer, and surprisingly he comes. "Want to hear her first single, not even released yet?" He plucks a CD out of his back pocket – presumably a copy of the finished recording – and waves it in front of Bitters' face before placing it on the desk.
"Just listen to it, okay? You'll like it, you can call Gustavo up to confirm that it's her – he was there when it was recorded – and she can stay, so we'll be going now."
The shocked and impressed looks on the boys' faces gives me the impression that Kendall isn't as sharp or insistent as that too often. I'm honoured that he chose to act that way simply so I can stay here.
We wait in tense silence while Bitters stares at Kendall like a hamster just snarled at him before moving his gaze to the CD, then back up to me.
"Have a…Palm Woods day," he greets me in a slightly confused tone.
"She'll be staying in our apartment. Thanks, Bitters," Kendall claps the large man on the shoulder before turning back to us. As he looks down at me he sends me a small and cute – with a capital 'C' – wink. Stifling a giggle, I smile at him shyly and mouth "thank you". He nods back in reply.
"So," Logan begins, and I turn back to him. "Want a tour of your new home?"
A thrill running through me – yes, this is my new home! – I smile and nod excitedly. His arm still around my shoulder, my brother grins at me, pulling me close to drop a kiss on the top of my head before steering me towards the double-doors by the windows in the lobby. With the doors already open, I spot a pool, with people around my age splashing around and just as many teenagers at the sides, enjoying the fabulous sun on sun-loungers. (Forgot to say; both the boys and Faythe are older than in the series. They look way too old to be 16, so just imagine them 17 or 18) As the guys lead me outside, I gaze in wonder at the beautiful stone slabs, the lovely cafe part on the dais on the left just behind the perimeter of potted plants.
"Hey, Logan!"
Following my brother's newly-turned gaze, I spot a girl about my age again in one of the dark blue half-closed gazebos, waving to Logan. Her fairish-brown hair slides straight down till her feathered ends tickle just under halfway down her back, which is covered by a dark blue sleeveless top with thin straps around each shoulder. Her deep brown eyes are magnified slightly by her circular thin-framed glasses. A laptop is balanced on her black-skinny-jean-clad legs, and her feet are bare. The smile on her face is bright with happiness, but small enough to seem relaxed…and shy. Hmm, interesting…
"Hey there, Sarah!" he grins at her.
He suddenly turns back to me, his expression guilty. He obviously wants to go and talk to the girl, but he doesn't want to leave me for fear of making me freak out. I smile at him; my brother is the best I could ever ask for, but I can't be hiding behind him all my life now. I need to be able to cope on my own. Besides, I'd have Logan's friends waiting here with me.
Including James, with his barely-concealed biceps beneath his awesome leather jacket.
Oh, shut up, Faythe.
"Go on," I encourage my brother quietly, nodding over to Sarah. His smile is another one of his soft 'you're the best' smiles, and he draws me close to press a brief kiss to my forehead before detaching himself from me and walking over to the tent. Logan and Sarah smile at each other, and she points to her laptop screen, showing him something of interest as he sits down beside her.
"So this is the pool," James says, and I turn back to him to see him gazing lovingly around the place. After a few seconds, it hits me that he's the only one there, and that Kendall and Carlos have walked off to talk to a few more of their friends. I try not to be affected – positively or not – by the fact I'm basically alone with James now. James focuses back on me and smiles. "It's a great place to kick back, get some great food, chill out with a few other people in the Palm Woods…"
"It looks amazing," I agree, walking carefully to the water's edge and dipping my hand in. Even though it's outside, the pool is lovely and warm. I stand up again. "This is luxury compared to a cage."
Ice descends again as I realise my slip. Glancing sideways at him, I see James's smile has frozen on his face, his lips and eyes a little tighter now. "Cage?" he echoes, slightly strained. I turn my face away again, ashamed for letting that slip. The silence stretches unbearably though, and I can't resist peeking back up at him through my eyelashes. He stares back down, boring into my very soul. He huffs sharply through his nose, running his hand through his glossy hair and staring off to the side at nothing.
"Those guys deserve a kick up the ass," he mutters before letting out a sardonic laugh. "What the hell am I saying? They deserve so much more than that. And boy, would I like to be the one giving it to them."
"I'm out now," I promise, subconsciously confused as to why I'm the one reassuring him. "I'm away from them all."
His head snaps back to look at me, and I'm shocked by the intensity in his caramel eyes. "Yeah, and if I have anything to say about it, it'll stay that way."
I stare at him, startled into silence, until his eyes suddenly soften again, as if he realises the tone he's taking. He laughs once again, sheepish this time.
"Sorry," he looks down at the floor, shaking his head at himself. "It's just…they…what they did…" On first impressions alone – not matter how inaccurate they may be – I wouldn't have pinned James as someone to stumble over words. The fact that he is now, after talking about my safety – and practically vowing to ensure it – is unnerving and flattering at the same time.
Feeling sorry for what must be a confident guy suddenly not being able to speak, I try to move the conversation into more familiar ground for him.
"The water in the pool is really warm," I mention my earlier observation.
His gorgeous eyes flick back to me, slightly wider and startled, before he blinks slowly, a grateful smile slowly stretching his lips. He must realise I'm changing the subject for his sake, and he's thanking me silently.
"We are in LA," he notes as an explanation. I grin and flip my eyebrows in a way I hope implies 'touché'.
"Hey, James!"
I jump as new voices break our little bubble that I hadn't even noticed being created. We both look across the pool to two pretty – but obviously mostly fake – girls in short shorts and revealing tops waving at James in a way I assume is meant to be seductive. A painful pang, much like when Miguel strikes me across the face, jerks inside my chest as he smiles at them warmly.
"Ladies," he calls, winking at them. For a second, I swear I see his eyes flick sideways to me, but I probably imagine it; why would he look at me when he's got those two in his sights?
Stop sounding like a depressed high school Barbie, Faythe; you said so yourself that you thought he was a player.
That didn't mean I wanted it confirmed.
Well, it has been now, so you can stop swooning and sighing over him like the pathetic girls across the pool.
No amount of arguing with myself can get rid of the stupid pain though, and I look on as James keeps their eye-contact as they make their way toward the lobby. Once they're out of sight, he turns back to me, mouth open and ready to start talking again, but the words get stuck in his throat; he jumps slightly as he sees me. Apparently I haven't hidden my disappointment or hurt well enough. His eyebrows pull together slightly as confusion moulds his expression. I don't bother making my emotions more obvious by looking away from him; I just meet his gaze levelly, willing him to continue with whatever he was about to say. Eventually, after two painstaking minutes, he does.
"You must be pretty hungry," he says, his expression not shifting, "after all that running."
"A little, yeah," I allow, grateful for the distraction, no matter how partial.
"Come on," he gently puts his hand behind my back, guiding me between the shoulders. He turns back to my brother, still in the tent with Sarah.
"Logan!" he calls, and my brother looks up from the laptop screen. James points down to me, then off to the side of the pool, onto the café-looking dais where I can see a small bit of steam rising. Logan gives the thumbs up, grateful that James has told him where he's taking me, before going back to Sarah.
James guides me up the stairs to the dais, choosing a free table and walking with me toward it. My ability to function properly escapes me as he pulls back my chair for me. Like a proper gentleman, in old-fashioned movies. His confused and self-conscious expression is the only thing that snaps me out of my reverie, and I lower myself cautiously to the chair. James kneels by me for a second, his expression gentle.
"Please don't think I'm patronising you," he begs. "I just don't want you to be uncomfortable. But I'm going to be just over there, alright?" He points to a grill, where I can see a few people walking away with large sugared doughnuts. "You'll still be able to see me, but you won't have to get close to another stranger again, so I thought it would be best if you sat here and waited for me."
"But I don't have any money," I point out, actually really impressed and flattered by his plan.
He blinks, surprised. "Did you really think I was going to ask you for money?" he says, incredulousness, almost insult, obvious in his voice. "No way; this one and any others after this one, if you want, are on me."
Without giving me time to protest at his spending money on me, he rises and strides quickly over to the grill.
Does he have multiple personality syndrome?
I shake my head lightly, too tired to figure out the enigma that is James…whatever-his-last-name-is.
"Hey, sorry," Kendall's voice makes me jump as he sits down next to me. Carlos takes the chair on the other side of me. "We just wanted to say hi to a few of our friends."
"Yeah, that's no problem," I smile at him. "I'm not exactly going to stop you from saying hi to your friends. That would be selfish."
He grins at me, then looks around confused. "Did James leave you on your own?" His voice displays his shock and disapproval.
"Not exactly," I defend him. "He's just over there, buying me a doughnut. He asked me if I'd be alright without him before he went off though."
Kendall blinks, turning back to me. "James is buying you a doughnut?"
"And he checked if you were okay with him walking off?" Carlos joins in the Spanish Inquisition – no pun intended.
Rather afraid of the intensity on their faces, I nod slowly. They turn to each other at the same time, then shrug in confusion. I frown.
"Doesn't he usually do that?" I ask.
"Not really," Kendall turns back to me. "He doesn't usually buy anything for anyone unless it's a "special occasion" present instead of something small, like a doughnut."
"He kind of just rushes off, too," Carlos agrees. "He just does stuff, without asking people even if it affects them. He sort of assumes that it would be okay."
I'm silent as I digest this information, trying not to let myself hope that he might be doing these out of character things because of me.
Of course not, Faythe. You saw how he acted with the fake girls by the pool; those are the kind of girls he likes. He's probably just doing all this to comfort you after what you've gone through.
Before I can fully convince myself, the should-be model returns, a doughnut with a napkin in each hand and a smile that's bright enough to solve all of LA's power problems.
"Here ya go," James hands over the large doughnut, sugar crumbling off its surface at every jostle, and I thank him. After smiling at me in response, he turns to his two friends as he takes a seat opposite me.
"Sorry, guys; I only got another one for me. If I'd known you were coming back I would have bought two more."
Kendall blinks, a shocked look on his face, while Carlos continues like nothing is wrong.
"Oh, hey, don't worry about it. I'm not really in the mood for a doughnut anyway. Thanks, though."
A few seconds of ordinary silence fall before Carlos almost double-takes back to James, his expression confused. Kendall looks to Carlos again, and they do that infuriating look-sharing again. They both then stand up.
"Um, we have to go sort out…something…in the apartment," Kendall smiles, très convincingly innocent.
"Right," Carlos nods just in time for Kendall to grab his arm and make off with him, almost running into the lobby and disappearing around the corner.
I stare after them, tempted to follow them just to see what they're obviously going to say about James. But I resist the urge, the thought of James not being there to protect me from my paranoia in this huge estate enough to keep me glued to my seat.
I mean, the thought of, just, being alone in general. Not just because it's James. No way. At all.
My curiosity still piqued though, I turn back to James, gesturing to our friends' departure. He wipes a bit of sugar from the side of his mouth, frowning toward the lobby, then flicks his gaze back down to me and shrugs. He has no clue either.
Deciding to ignore it, I take an experimental bite out of my sugary treat…and nearly moan in delight. I've always had a sweet-tooth, and this is just bliss incarnate when it comes to food. A silky chuckle breaks my bubble of heaven, and I open my eyes to see James's sparkling as much as his smile.
"Good doughnut?" he winks. Keep calm, Faythe. It's just a wink…
I nod in agreement, finishing my mouthful. "I could get used to this kind of food."
Yet again, another incident on when I want to duct-tape my mouth shut forever after letting slip too much information around James of all people. His smile freezes in place, tighter now as he looks away, and I can tell the thoughts running through his mind right now are the different types of food I might have been offered when I was with the Jags. If at all. I decide not to fuel his imagination, and remain silent. After a few seconds of deliberately not meeting my eyes, he speaks again.
"My thoughts are kind of driving me crazy right now," he confesses. "Can we talk about something else?"
"Gladly," I nod, "but I have to ask you something first." His eyes hold me in their power again. "Every time I make a slip-up like that, it's you that freaks out, not me. Why is that? Why are you affected by this so much?"
He laughs without humour. "It's just, when I think of the stuff you've been through – the stuff that's been done to you…I really, really, want to punch something. Preferably their faces."
Shocked by his urgent need to protect and defend me, it's a few moments before I can speak again.
"I would offer you that opportunity, but there's one thing; if I'm never going near them again, then neither are you. You don't know what they're like, and I'm not taking the risk that they might be able to take you out."
James grins, apparently more in his territory now. "I can take them on," he brags. "Look, check out my weapons."
He shrugs his leather jacket off and flexes, his biceps bulging underneath his T-shirt sleeves, and the torso of the material rippling as the muscles underneath tense. All in all, it's very impressive, not to mention sexy.
But the fact that he needs to flex them at all puts me off; if he loves showing off, then he'd probably feel the need to show off to everyone, other girls included. I want a guy who makes some parts of himself exclusive to me, and arrogance screams "not exclusive". My heart sinks even as I compliment him, and I hope it doesn't show in the hollowness of my voice.
As he pulls his jacket back on, James is staring at me, as if intrigued and mystified by me, calculating certain moves, or wondering why certain strategies hadn't played out the way he predicted. Even as his intensity nearly scares me, I can't look away as I'm hypnotised by his eyes again. Finally, I gather enough brain cells to string a sentence together.
"So, who's that Sarah girl that my brother's talking to?"
Slowly, James smiles again. "She's cool. She's into acting, but she's more of a backstage/special effects kind of girl, although she can hold her own in front of a camera. The people she works with say she's the nicest person they ever met, if slightly tom-boyish sometimes. She sticks up for the right people in the right situations though, and she knows the right thing to do. She's awesome with a computer, and a real nerd with her facts and stuff. So basically, a brilliant catch for your brother."
I laugh at the truth in that statement. James and I then just get talking again, about anything, about everything. We relish in just having each other's company, and have fun together just like any friends in the world would. And halfway through the afternoon, I realise that I've relaxed. That the person who has made me relax in this place, and feel welcome and safe, isn't my brother.
It's James.
Talk about frustrating.
Sorry if that's a crap finish, it's just that I really needed to get this chapter done and up there. Or it would never be done. Anyway, sorry for keeping you waiting so long! I'll try not next chapter, but I can't promise anything.
Fly on,
NitnatRide
