All rights go to their rightful owners; characters belong to Stephenie Meyer whilst the title of the FanFic belongs to Demi Lovato.
This is Leah's story from when she left in Two Worlds Collide, my Jacella fic, but makes sense without having to read Two Worlds. You could however skip to Bonus Leah chapter after Chapter 18 and that bonus chapter briefs over this story but this will continue as Leah's life after the final chapter of Two Worlds.
Italicised text is extracts taken from Lindsey Kelk's novel I heart New York. It comes as a recommended chic-lit read.
Enjoy and tell me what you all think; criticism is welcome.
Taking a bite out the Big Apple
Landing in my new home city I hail a cab to take me to Rose and Emmett's apartment on the corner of 5th and East 97th [a/n real streets I know but considering I'm English and streets have names not numbers so bare with me.] from LaGuardia, a journey time of 20 minutes. Letting myself into the building with the key Rose gave me, the first thing I notice is how white and clean everything is; I would have to make it more colourful to make it homely. Pushing doors open, finding the main bedroom I flop onto the large bead and crash out, exhausted.
Waking to the garish sun I rub the crap out of my eyes and take in my surroundings more clearly; every surface and wall is white with hints of chrome and silver and rich ruby red jewel tones. After showering in the en-suite, letting the warm droplets of water un-tense and relax my muscles, getting changed into fresh clothes before wandering around the apartment.
The morning light makes everything seem whiter, cleaner to what it was the day before. It's open and spacious with everything set in clean lines; the floor to ceiling windows letting the light in across a whole wall, I was high enough up to see a clear view of central park across the street. It's strange to think how a huge green park sits smack bang in the middle of a busy city; especially since everything in it's completely landscaped with artificial lakes and ponds and planted trees.
Heading out to explore Central Park I text Rose: Landed safely was glad to find apartment and sleep xL
Standing on the sidewalk a little way into central park; green trees stand tall but seem small under the canopy of skyscrapers. I didn't need the West coast; they knocked me down, poor Leah was hurt by Sam. I didn't need him, I'm my own person. I will be rising from the ground like a skyscraper. I had been flattened once; it would never happen again. I was in control, standing tall, standing proud, like a skyscraper.
I take the whole day to explore the park; taking photo's to send to mom and Seth as well as some for the apartment. My dad used to love taking photos of everything. "Beauty can be found in anything." He used to say. "Use angles, get down on the ground and take something looking up at it so it looks bigger, stand on something and look down on it to make it seem smaller." He used to show me exactly what he meant; there are photos of Seth and me taken by him when he would lie on the ground and get us to stand on stuff so we looked taller. I miss my dad.
Sitting on a bench in the evening sun, I flick through photos smiling to myself when I realise how much mum and Seth would love New York. There's photos taken from Christmas time left on my camera; Seth in a Santa hat, mum baking mince pies, me in my pyjamas taken by Seth. Catching teardrops in my hand I wipe them away furiously.
I invite her back to the apartment for coffee before explaining about the past; leaving out anything to do with the pack out, when I complained that I felt slightly cowardly running away she retorts back, "Nope, I think you're a hero. You confronted a life changing situation head on, you challenged people who were negative influences in your life even though they were cornerstones in your social system and you came to the best city in the world to rediscover yourself. New York is made up of millions of different people, Leah, and they all come here looking for something, just like you. If you didn't feel like your support system was strong enough, then getting yourself out of the situation was the best thing to do. And New York is a great place to do that. It's a city of new beginnings. People go to LA to find themselves, they come to New York to become someone new."
"Who though? Someone new; I don't know how to do that, just to leave my past behind me."
"It's easy." She states, finishing her coffee, "New hair, new makeup, new wardrobe. New York. New You." If only it was that easy. "Actually, you should meet the girls sometime. When was the last time you had a proper night out on the town?" I couldn't think of an answer to that. "That's what I thought, Friday night to us is Friday Night ritual, we hit the same bars and clubs the same time every Friday night without fail. You should come." Before I could give her a reply she writes down her cell phone number on a scrap bit of paper. "Call me" gets thrown over her shoulder as she leaves.
Rose, using her contacts, had got me a job, as long as I turned up things would be fine. And so my life in the big apple began; its repetitiveness bringing me comfort. I got up every morning at 6am ran all the way around central park avoiding the tourists to make it to work for 8am. Work being the easy job of waitressing at an 'all American diner' which goes by the name of Joe's. Joe being the owner and head chef. Apparently he and Emmett bonded over football. He would have been a quarter back in high school, left to try and coach ended up going to catering college instead, worked his way up to owning a diner, for that, I'm thankful. The girls at the diner were like a pack of my won, my run away story making me a legend in my own rights. The six of us; me, Mackenzie, Jen my first New York friend out of coincidence, Elena, Bonnie and Caroline; moved as one, like clockwork, no planning or strategising needed. That first day I had been asked so many questions about my past that they had invited themselves back to my apartment for coffee, wanting to know more about why I had run away. Already the five girls were like sisters to me and I had only known them a day.
Friday had come around quicker than I had expected; as my transformation from a small town girl to a new Yorker had yet to be done, Joe had given Jen the day off to get me ready for my first night out on the town. At 9am I had Jen banging at my door, shouting that we were going to be late, by half nine I was in the Rapture spa and salon getting new hair and makeup done.
She introduced me to Gina, her stylist, who washed, cut and flipped my hair in ways I had never seen before. My pixie crop that had gotten cut for my time in the pack had grown out to my jaw line unevenly. Gina had worked her magic; she had taken my old side parting and moved it to the middle of my head, my grown out razored and layered pixie crop was now cut so that it was less choppy and smoother, my side bangs had been cut to a full one across my forehead and skimmed my eyebrows. The length was easy to cope with, just skimming my jaw line once it was flat ironed, with a small amount of hair product it could make it into a choppy, layered slightly messy look that was a cross between my old hair and my new glossier cut with a subtle red through it that would stand out in the sun.
After the hair came the makeup, when asked by Razor, a guy in his late 20s with a bright blue Mohawk and extreme eyeliner addict, what I used I simple shrugged and mumbled 'nothing' her glanced quickly at Jen before looking back at me, sighing a little.
"Right, basics first." He grabs my chin, tilting my head in different angles. "Eyelashes to kill for, great cheekbones and lips that look good enough to eat; if I was straight that is." The compliments caught me off guard while his acceptance to being openly gay caught me even more off guard, making me gawp in shock and admiration. He motions to an assistant who wheels a trolley filled with MAC makeup, within half an hour I had the perfect foundation, a slightly too pink blusher that apparently looked good on my 'great cheekbones' with shades of eye shadow applied for a smoky look plus a few lip glosses. I was totally out of my depth. He piles everything that he used into a MAC make up bag, sliding the brushes and sponges into a smaller purse too keep them in good condition; it was the lip-gloss that scared me the most; I had a range of neutral and coffee colours which I could cope with but it was the red one that was the worse. 'Scarlet fever' was apparently the one that would turn any gay guy straight; Razors words, not mine. I got the range of Mac make up for nothing; a gift from Razor the 'self confessed makeup junkie'.
Next on Jen's list was clothes; she exits the spa and hails a cab since walking any more than 100 yards in four and a half inch heels would be a crime. Bloomingdales. She heads straight for the perfume counter; I had never seen so many bottles in a place. I wanted something fruity but not too over bearing, out of the bottles that the assistant suggested the only one that I really recognised was Lola by Marc Jacobs, so I chose that squirting a small amount of the tester fragrance onto my wrists and neck.
A quick run around the fourth floor and three armloads of clothes later, I was ordered into a changing room while Jen and two assistants appeared intermittently with racks and racks of clothes. Soon I was clad in beautiful 7 for all Mankind skinny jeans that made my legs look even sexier and a flared pair of J Brands that I could dress down with my converse and old t-shirt, or dress up with heels. One of the helpful and defiantly on commission assistants declared that, my legs were a good shape and as such, should be on display. She had brought in a whole of bum-skimmingly short dresses before we both accepted that I would never be able to walk more than ten yards down the road without pulling them down. After that, we added a couple of inches to the length and I relented on a cute blue French Connection jersey dress, a gorgeous Marc by Marc Jacobs printed smock and several stunning bits from Ella Moss and Splendid – T-shirt dresses so soft they felt like clouds! Several C&G California T-shirts and a couple of pairs of shorts and easy to wear skirts later, we moved on to evening wear.
"So, for dates…I'm thinking something flirty but fun? Classic though. And easy to wear. You can't be sexy if you don't feel good." Jen sent the assistants scurrying across the shop floor with another flick of her wrist. I stood in my pants, peeping round the corner of the slatted wooden door waiting for the next rack of clothes. And in no time they arrived. Vera Wang Lavender. Tory Burch. Nanette Lapore. DVF. 3.1. phillip lim. Paul & Joe sister. More Marc Jacobs. When I admitted that I didn't exactly know what bra size I was she turned a funny pink colour. "It's just not ok," she said, shaking her head and snatching up several styles and sizes."Do you want your rack around your knees at forty?" I was pushed back into my new natural habitat of the changing room, armed with balconettes, backless, strapless, plunge, soft, full cup and half cup bras. I was then trailed up another floor, buying flip-flops, flat sand full on heels to match my outfits along with the ballet pumps, the Havaianas and two pairs of wedges were also coming with us.
We headed back down through the store, laden with bags – big, medium and little – I had spent more than a month's income in only four hours but I was too happy to feel any buyer's remorse. Riding back down to the ground floor, I adopted the official lift position as Jen scrambled around in her handbag. Clutch purchases, do not make eye contact with fellow lift rides, stare straight ahead. But instead of seeing myself in the mirrored doors, I saw someone completely different. My hair swished as I turned my head slightly, Razor's makeup had given me huge Bambi eyes and just bitten lips.
It's a good job that Rose had gifted me with a new credit card just for 're-inventing myself' alone; I knew that she would be checking to see what I had been buying with it. She would be so proud to see so many designer names on it.
Hailing a cab back to the apartment we find the girls watching TV in the lounge; they had charmed Steven, the doorman, to let them in with a spare key. He was a sucker for a group of gorgeous girls; within ten minutes of meeting him he had asked for my cell phone number; just a tad too much for my liking, but he cared.
After reapplying the makeup and fluffing my hair slightly I, with the help of the girls, find myself in the French Connection blue jersey dress, a wide white belt is slung low on my hips and white four inch Louboutin heels strapped to my feet. My first Friday Night Ritual was a blast; it became a regular occurance for me, these girls had a ritual and I was now a part of it. As the current legend I led by example stalking through the streets of Manhattan; Mackenzie and Jen having my back, Caroline, bonnie and Elena having theirs. High heels and even higher hemlines rhythmically pounding the pavement. These girls are the sisters I've never had. The clubs letting us through without the wait, guys buying us drinks, we never carried cash. Locals know the route we take going from bar to club on a ritual mission every Friday night. No exceptions.
I felt like a new me, in New York. A maid in Manhattan.
New Leah was here to stay and she looked show stopping.
Okay so that's the second chapter. I do apologise for not updating, I re-started school again and getting back into a routine is difficult. Thanks for reading.
Lorna =]