Disclaimer: I do not own the TMNT or any associated characters. They are all property of Nickelodeon. However, I own myself, so it's all good!
In that last chapter, Raph was much kinder than usual…so kind, that he chose to take me on a motorcycle ride (something I, by the way, have always wanted to do). And now, we are going to a pub/bar. This can't end well…
I hope you enjoy, and thanks for all of the reviews! They're greatly appreciated!
The interior of the bar is fairly standard, decked out with dim lighting, red leather booths, and a long, shiny wood counter. There are your stereotypical stubble-faced men slumped over their pints in dingy coats and rowdy minors who managed to slip past the men at the door with a wad of cash or a fake ID. I guess I shouldn't be talking, considering I'm underage even in Canada, where the legal drinking age is nineteen. I'm shocked that the guy at the door let me in without checking for ID. I would still be standing there gawking at the bouncer if Raph hadn't impatiently shoved me in ahead of him!
We settle into crimson, high-backed chairs on opposite sides of a round, black lacquered table topped by a napkin dispenser. I'm getting used to the thick air inside, so this time I don't cough as I breathe in to ask, "Do you come here often?"
"As often as Leo lets me go topside without a fight, so no," Raph replies, leaning back in his chair. I smile, turning my head when I hear the clicks of approaching footsteps over the din. The source of the sound is a young waitress with kohl lined eyes and a sleek blonde ponytail, a plastic tray pressed to her stomach. Sounding disinterested, she greets with a forced smile, "My name is Jessica, what can I get you two?"
Raph is the first to speak, replying in his deep voice, "I'll have a Keith's." Upon hearing his voice, the waitress automatically perks up and her smile grows. She scribbles something onto her small notepad, and then looks pointedly at me. It takes me ten seconds to realize that she's waiting for me to order.
"Oh, me," I say dumbly, and the waitress raises her eyebrows at me expectantly. Raph laughs behind his hand and our server glances at him, turning back to me a second later with pursed lips. I shake my head and say, "Nothing, thank you."
The girl narrows her eyes at me before turning to Raph, smiling radiantly as she asks him, "Anything else?"
"Not now," Raph answers, smiling as he adds, "But if I need anything, I'll be sure to ask for you, Jessica." The waitress giggles flirtatiously and bounces away to get Raph's order. Unbelievable! Even normal girls are reduced to simpering mush when they hear his voice! As a TMNT fan girl, I fully appreciate the depth and tone of his voice, but I had no idea this appreciation extended outside our circle of "believers".
"So," Raph starts conversationally and I direct my attention to him. "You don't drink?" Why does he sound so surprised?
"No, it's not that appealing," I answer, "forgetting" to mention that it would also be illegal. I know that Raph's not of age either, but with a voice and an attitude like his, he can easily pass of for an adult, whereas I look like a high school girl.
The waitress soon returns balancing a tall glass filled with golden liquid on her tray, a thick layer of foam frothing over its edge. As she bends over to set the drink down, she displays her impressive cleavage, straightening slowly to make sure we've gotten a good look. She bats her eyelashes at Raph, murmuring coyly, "I'll be back to top you up later."
"Can't wait," Raph responds, and the waitress flicks me a sharp look before she moves to the next table.
"What was that for?" Raph asks, jerking his chin toward our waitress who is now serving a trio of men sporting grey sport coats and gold wedding bands that they've expertly shoved into their pockets. Is he joking? How could he not notice she was flirting with him? Unless…Oh. This is Raph's first time out with a girl; he must not be used to jealousy.
…and now I'm going to have to explain what happened. Awkward.
"Well, you probably guessed that she was flirting with you," I begin by stating the obvious, knowing an infant could have come to that conclusion. My face warms, and even in the minimal lighting I know that I resemble the inside of a watermelon as I continue slowly, "She was glaring at me because she finds you attractive and when she saw us sitting together, she assumed we were…uh… 'together'." How articulate of me.
"You mean on a date?" Raph asks in disbelief and I nod stiffly. He laughs out loud, making my face darken from blushing pink to overripe tomato and the remains of my confidence plummet through the floor. I know Raph doesn't like me—and the feeling is mutual—but I didn't think I was that undesirable.
When he sees I'm not laughing, Raph sobers up and makes a weak save. "Not that you're not nice or anythin'," he continues as if he didn't just have a laughing fit. "It would just be weird, ya know?"
YES. Now please stop talking about it.
After a few seconds of silence, Raph says thoughtfully, "I can kinda see why she's threatened by you." Say what? I gape at him as he drains half of his draft in one gulp. When he lowers his glass, Raph swirls the amber liquid around with gentle rotations of his wrist, explaining his entirely ludicrous observation. "You're wearing my leather jacket and your hair is windblown thanks to our motorcycle ride. Honestly? You look kind of badass."
Laughter explodes from my mouth, attracting much unwanted attention. Even the comatose man in the rumpled burgundy suit lifts his head from the bar to see what the problem is. I'm usually respectfully quiet in public but…me, badass? That is ridiculous! When my guffaws of laughter have subsided to a light chuckle, I choke out, "You think that I'm…badass?" Judging by his bemused expression, he does. I quickly add, "I am definitely not a rebel. I do everything I'm told, I'm a total nerd, and I won't cross the street unless there's a crosswalk and a green light!"
Raph shrugs and replies, "You and I know that, but she doesn't." He inclines his head toward our waitress, presently leaning over the bar as she chats up the young man behind it. I suddenly realize that Raph's right—nobody in this city knows me. I'm in New York at the Academy of Performing Arts on a one year Scholarship in hopes of recruiting me when I graduate. I'm studying my regular courses, but I'm also here to improve my technique in theatre, music and dance. As an actress, it is expected of me—nay, it is my duty—to practice staying in character. And this is the perfect place to start.
"You're right," I say to Raph as a handsome young man steps in the door. I catch his attention and flick my eyes downward, looking back up at him through my lashes and smiling. The corner of his mouth turns up in a flirtatious smile and he slips off his jacket to reveal toned arms, sauntering over to our table. I immediately return my attention to Raph, grinning in spite of myself because although I've seen it before, this is my first attempt at flirting. And it is working quite well, if I do say so myself. Raph gives me a confused look and I'm about to enlighten him when Cute Guy stops at our table, leaning a palm on the tabletop to face me fully.
"I couldn't help but notice you watching me a few seconds ago," he says in a lush voice that makes my insides tingle. I fold my arms over my chest and look up at him, feigning indifference with a perfectly raised eyebrow.
"Someone thinks highly of himself," I tease, smiling to imply I'm joking. He grins at me with a dazzling set of teeth that perfectly contrast his tan skin. Either he spent two weeks in some Tropical paradise, or he used some of his sister's self-tanner to save himself a plane ticket; there's no way his skin got that caramel hue hanging out in New York. Of course, the lighting in here makes even my pasty skin look tan.
"Why not? You seem to," he quips, and I roll my eyes, resting my chin on my knuckles and looking up at him. I glance at Raph and he takes another swig of beer before he sets his glass on the table with a thud, stretching his arms above his head.
"I need a walk," Raph says more for our benefit than his own as he pushes up from the table. Before he walks away, he looks at Cute Guy with flashing eyes and reminds us, "I won't be far. Back in a few." With a final look in my direction, Raph heads toward the bar and is swallowed instantly by the growing clump of people in the venue.
Cute Guy takes Raph's seat happily and says, "I thought he'd never leave. Who is he, a brother? Boyfriend?"
I shake my head adamantly, saying, "No, just a friend…he's more like a warden, though." When Cute Guy laughs, his whole face lights up and his warm voice is a cavernous warmth that envelopes me. I relax and lean forward, studying his liquid hazel eyes.
"I never caught your name," I venture, hoping he didn't tell me and I just forgot. He smiles with gleaming teeth and is quick to reply.
"I'm Brett," he answers, making sure I can see his bicep flex as he reaches across the table to shake my hand, "Pleasure to meet ya, darlin'."
When he says the word 'darling', a Southern drawl comes out and I smile in spite of myself, shaking his hand. "I'm Li-Jade. My name is Jade," I repeat to verify, smacking myself internally for almost letting my name slip.
It takes me a couple of seconds to notice that Brett still has a grip on my hand and is running his thumb down my index finger. I pull my hand away and lean back in my chair, avoiding his tawny eyes as I bite my tongue to hold in a nervous giggle. He folds his arms and rests them on the table, looking at me with fluid eyes as he observes quietly, "That's a cute little accent ya got there."
I wish I could tell him I come from Costa Rica or England, because there is nothing sexy about Canada…except Ryan Reynolds, of course. Wait, maybe I can! I mean, this is all an act— although so far, Brett has been most of the playing while I've been smiling like a bubblehead. It's time to take control and ignore the fact that he is drop-dead gorgeous.
"I'm from Toronto, Ontario," I fib and he cocks his head in confusion. "In Canada," I add, and recognition lights up his eyes.
"That's a long way to travel just to come see little ol' me," he teases, and I feel the colour rise in my face when he smiles cheekily. He reaches across the table to rest a hand on my forearm and my skin prickles in excitement.
"Actually, I'm here to train in the performing arts," I explain as Brett shifts his chair from the opposite side of the table to right beside me. "I got a scholarship. I'm here for the year to learn about musical theatre."
"Mmm, so you're smart and talented? Looks like they breed 'em well in Canada," Brett compliments, flicking his dark hair out of his eye and finishing with another pearly smile. Suddenly the waitress from earlier comes over, surprised to see Brett next to me instead of Raph. She gives me a nasty look and turns to Brett, asking, "Would you like anything?"
"Two American Sweethearts," Brett says before I can even utter a 'No thank you'. I shake my head and slide my arm out of his hold, insisting, "Really, I don't—"
"Don't worry," he cuts across me, "It wouldn't be mannerly of me to let you pay for your own drink." But I don't want one! The waitress blows away on an icy breeze before I can protest, and when I turn to politely tell Brett that I don't drink, I find myself paralyzed by his beautiful eyes, his lips curled in a smirk and his hair falling perfectly across his forehead. One drink couldn't hurt, right?
Wrong.
When the waitress brings by our drinks, practically spilling mine on my lap, I hesitantly lift my glass, covertly watching Brett as I do. He raises his glass to his lips and tips his head back, downing the whole thing in one gulp. I take a sip, and suddenly my mouth and throat are assaulted by a sharp, bitter flavour. I set my glass down and blink furiously to keep my eyes from watering, a small cough escaping my lips. Brett looks concerned as he asks, "Are you alright?"
"Great," I reply, my throat raw like sandpaper. He waves over a waitress and asks for water, the girl returning in less than a minute. I take a huge gulp and sigh in relief, wiping the moisture from my eye as I push the drink far away from me. So much for sweetheart. This is just one more reason to dislike alcohol: it spontaneously combusts when you swallow. Once the crisis is averted, Brett chuckles and says, "I take it that's your first drink, eh?"
"Good guess," I reply, laughing a little less enthusiastically. His laughter dies down and he orders another drink—this time a Bud Weiser—sending the waitress off with a flashy smile. I study Brett more closely, noting his grin is forced, his eyes disconnected with his twin rows of gleaming teeth. The drink arrives, and he finishes it while carrying on a one-sided conversation about his plans for the fall. He's a second year business student at Baruch College and grew up in Tennessee with his three brothers and divorced father. I haven't had to do more than hum interestedly or say "I see" in thirty minutes.
Brett looks at me with heavy-lidded eyes, his smile lazy as he places his hand on my thigh. I feel my heart drum faster in my rib-cage and I shift uncomfortably in my seat, letting his hand fall from my leg. He moves closer and takes my hand, putting it dangerously close to his crotch as he leans in to touch his lips to my neck. I pull my hand back, stammering, "I don't think—"
"You don't have to think, just go with it," he murmurs hoarsely, his hand sliding up the side of my shirt as he nips at my earlobe. Okay, that's enough. I unravel his tentacles and retreat to the back of my seat, hoping he'll take the hint. His brow furrows in displeasure and he asks, "What's wrong, darlin'?"
Now his accent's getting really annoying. When I fail to say anything after a few seconds, he leans in again and I hold out a hand to keep him at bay. His palm lands on my lower back and he pins my hands with his opposite arm, trying to kiss me. I turn away, saying firmly, "Stop it!"
Suddenly, Brett is hauled from his seat, freeing my hands and allowing me to breathe properly. I turn to see Raph holding him by the shirt collar, his eyes narrowed in anger and his free hand balled in a fist. Through bared teeth, Raph snarls fiercely, "Leave her alone."
Raph glares down at him for a long moment then releases Brett. It takes the boy all of three seconds to snatch up his coat and reach the door, leaving the bar without a backward glance. When Raph turns his harsh look to me I glance down in shame. Searching for a something to say, all I can come up with is a mumbled, "I'm sorry."
He stares at me with disappointment blazing in his eyes and for a second it's like I'm looking at Leo instead of Raph. However, when he speaks, I'm reminded that I would be better off with Leo.
"You're damn lucky I was here," is all Raph says as he plops down into his seat, frowning at the tabletop. I watch Raph avidly as he broods, wondering what he thinks of me after my shameless display. Gosh, I am so stupid. Why did I think flirting with the first guy I saw would be a good acting exercise? All it did was put me in a bad situation that I had to be rescued from, and ruin whatever groundwork I had with Raph.
I peek up at Raph and catch him glancing away, smiling to myself when I realize I'm not the only one who's watching. It's time to salvage this.
"By the way," I say, my voice sounding too loud over the deep cavern of quiet between us. He doesn't raise his eyes but I sense that he's listening, so I press on, "Thank you for helping me out. I would have been in trouble if you hadn't showed up, so…thanks."
I wait patiently for a response, even an affirmative grunt. After a long moment of thought, Raph looks up at me, his eyes illegible as he studies my face. I make sure to appear sincere and apologetic, holding my breath in anticipation of his verdict. Raph finally releases a sigh and answers, "You can pay me back by interviewin' me and writin' something nice 'bout it. We got a deal?"
I can hardly speak. He's going to let me interview him? After all that? This is the best day ever! My grin is enormous as I prepare to take him up on his offer, when he adds as an after thought, "Oh, and one more thing: You have to answer a question."
"Sure," I reply gamely, smiling at him with gratitude. "Anything at all!"
He smirks, and I discover I've stepped into a trap of Raph's design. Oh no.
"Do you have a thing for Donnie?" he asks in a low voice as he leans over the table, raising an eye ridge suggestively. My face becomes a red hot stove element, my smile melting and my cheeks coming to a full boil. I definitely walked into that one.
"Well I…um…w-why do you… I suppose it's a fair question, but…uh…" I fish around a diversion, but it's clear that Raph won't accept any of my lame excuses. I guess admitting to Raph that I like Don won't killme, right?
…yeah, I'm not convinced either.
"Okay, yes. Yes I do," I finally reply, and Raph's face stretches into a triumphant smile, making my cheeks turn redder. He shakes his head and chuckles to himself, saying, "I knew it!" Was I really that obvious about it? Laughing to himself, Raph crows, "Wait 'til I tell Mikey!"
My stomach drops and my eyes practically pop out of their sockets, my remaining cool disappearing in a puff of smoke. Trying my best not to lunge frantically across the table and grip the front of Raph's sweater as I beg, I practically shriek, "Nonononono, you can'ttell anyone! Please don't say anything, please?"
Raph laughs at my pleading, and he teases, "I don't think ya can stop me."
I'm doomed! I'll have to change my name, leave home, and take up residence in some strange city…Oh wait, I already did that. What am I going to do? As I'm panicking, I see something I didn't notice before. There's a faint red mark on Raph's jaw that resembles a lip print.
"I guess I can't," I consent, masking my smile as I pull a napkin from the dispenser. I reach across the table and wipe the smudge off of Raph's face, showing him the red stain as I continue, "Unless, of course, I was to threaten to tell your family about our lovely waitress Jessica."
I smirk as Raph's eyes widen, both of us knowing the kind of reaction he'd get at home if I shared this "interaction". He'd be scolded by Leo and his father, tortured by Mikey, and scientifically analyzed by Don. Based on Raph's facial expression, I've got him right where I want him. Hesitating for a few seconds to weigh the risks against the benefits, Raph reluctantly concedes, "I won't tell, alright? Yer secret's safe."
"Thank you," I reply contentedly, grabbing a handful of napkins and digging a hand in my pocket for a pen. When I find one, I uncap it and smooth out my pile of napkins, smiling as I urge, "Now, about my interview."
Looks like I come out victorious again! :D
I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. Guess who's next? I'll give you a hint: He's green, purple and adorkable all over That's right, it's Donnie!
Thanks so much for reading, and please review!
The Light of Reason