This is what you've been waiting for! Part of James's "story" and why he's so mysterious! Sorry it took so long- I've been constantly changing this! There were so many things I wanted to include, so many different reactions and feelings and situations. I think I went through every form of teenager James could possibly be and I changed the whole story about 5 times! I think I finally got it the way I want, and I hope you love it.


James knew all too well the disapproving look of a father to his son, although Kendall thought that he didn't.

It was Halloween of 1995, about 4 o'clock, when James was getting ready to go egg some houses, maybe throw a little TP, with his buddies. He was in his ripped jeans and dark Metallica t-shirt, ready to go get into some trouble.

But then the doorbell sounded.

James rolled his eyes, looking himself over in the mirror. Stupid trick-or-treaters. Didn't they notice that the porch light wasn't on? No candy here.

He ignored it, but only a few seconds later it sounded again and again.

Finally James went down the stairs and opened the door, ready to tell the stupid kids to beat it. But when he opened the big oak door, it wasn't kids in costumes standing there. It was a strange yet handsome man with longish blonde hair and blue eyes, standing there casually.

Being only 16, James had only just joined the football team, but had some hockey muscles from years of playing. But he definitely wasn't as muscular as he was destined to be in about ten years. He wasn't sure that he could defend himself if this guy was dangerous… He didn't look dangerous…

The guy shifted, looking James up and down and smiling a little, showing that he had very nice and white teeth.

"You turned out nice," he said.

"Um…" James said uneasily. He wished his mom was here now… She was assertive and could get rid of this creeper. But she was at a work party and it was just James, and James wasn't assertive at all. He didn't want to hurt the guy's feelings. "Do I know you?"

"No, I guess you don't," the guy smirked a little. "Name's Randall."

The guy held out his hand for James, but James just stared at the guy in confusion and defense.

"And you're James. James Randall Diamond."

"That's… Not my name," James said, getting a little creeped out. "Look, dude, I've got places to be."

"Not your name?"

The guy reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper, looking at James then the paper.

"You're not James?" he asked. James saw that the paper had his school picture printed on it and backed away a little, closing the door a bit.

"Who are you?" he prodded. "Is this some Halloween joke?"

"Why are you acting so scared?" the guy laughed.

"I'm not scared," James said in his strongest voice. "Just tell me who you are and why you know my name."

"Because I'm your dad," Randall explained. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Damn."

With that, James started to close the door, but Randall caught it easily.

"I know you don't believe me, but check this out."

Randall took out another piece of paper, which showed a three-year-old James, his mom, and Randall himself.

"That was the only other time I've ever seen you, James," Randall said. "You've changed a lot since then."

"That's impossible. My dad's dead. Now beat it before I call the cops."

With that, James started to close the door in Randall's face.

"Wait- is that what your mom told you? That I died?" Randall asked angrily. "I guess it's for the best…"

James didn't like the way this guy was talking about his dad. His mother always told him that his dad was an honorable army man. That he was killed at war before he could even meet James as a baby. Because of that, James had always been fond of the thought of his dad. He had always wanted to meet him, but of course he never could.

"Listen, kid. I just wanted to come by and see you. Maybe catch up," Randall said.

"You're not my dad," James repeated angrily. He was mainly angry because this guy could never live up to James's image of his dad. He was too scrawny and too mean. He always imagined his dad to be very tall and muscular with a crew cut, who could be very strict yet gentle. He had high respect for the man he thought to be his dad. "My friends are gonna be here any minute," James warned, but it was a lie. He was supposed to meet them at the park. "And they can-"

"Jeez, I'm glad I don't have to deal with this every day like your mom," Randall sighed, lighting up a cigarette.

"Fuck you. You're not my dad and I know it. He would never say something like that."

"Would some stranger know that your mom is Brooke Diamond and you've lived in this house since you were even conceived? Would some stranger know that there's a hole in the wall of the upstairs bathroom in there from when your 'real dad' punched it?" Randall asked tiredly.

James stared apprehensively. He was noticing that Randall had a similar nose and his facial hair was growing in the same way James's was starting to. They had similar fingernails and similar jerky movements.

If this was his father, which he didn't think he was, then this might be his only chance to show him what he missed out on. His only chance to make him proud.

"Well then… Why did my mom say that you died in the army?" James asked, feeling dumb for even putting a little trust into this stranger. He just wanted so bad for this guy to be his dad, even though he wasn't all James imagined. He was something.

Randall stared at James for a second, then threw up his hands and laughed a little.

"I let a buddy of mine borrow my dog tags. I guess it was a mistake," he said.

"Then why didn't you come back to visit?"

"I was… Busy?" Randall said.

"You don't look like you've been in the army all this time."

"Look, kid. I need your help," Randall said, changing the subject. "If you're in, it'll be a huge payday for you."

Randall lit a cigarette and offered it to James after taking a drag… Something that would definitely get him in trouble if someone found out, so naturally he took a hit, looking the guy over as he did.

"I'm listening," he said, exhaling smoke and trying not to cough. He decided that if this guy was his real dad, he was okay with it.


"I'm supposed to meet my friends at the park," James said in the passenger seat of Randall's van.

"Aren't you a little old to be trick-or-treating?" Randall gibed, and before James could argue went on. "Besides, after tonight you'll be able to buy new friends."

Randall took another cigarette from the pack and offered one to James, who took it. He liked this guy. He still didn't know if he believed that he was his dad, but he seemed to understand James. Plus he didn't yell at him for smoking or saying cusswords.

After a silent car ride, they arrived at a warehouse on the "bad side of town".

James didn't get out of the car, instead just watching Randall go up to the door and do a secret knock. When Randall started to go in, James realized that he would rather go with him then stay alone in this van, so he hurried in, too.

The warehouse was empty until they arrive in a big room, which was smoky and stinky, full of plastic-wrapped blocks of things and boxes and a table with about ten men around it, with some type of chemical set against one wall and a safe on another.

Randall stopped beside the table and James stood beside him, very close, looking at the table. Some were counting money and others were packaging things. They all looked jittery and hollow, eyes wide and fingers boney.

"Is this the kid?" one of them asked- a Native American looking one with long black hair and hard black eyes. He seemed like Randall- more composed and normal.

"This is him," Randall nodded. All eyes turned to James and James puffed his chest a little, trying to seem tough so they wouldn't try anything funny.

The guy led James and Randall to a corner of the room, picking up a backpack loaded with bags- some with green leaves in them, some with white powder. He gave it to Randall, who put an arm over James, holding the bag out between them.

"This is for you. Don't let anyone see what's inside," he said, but James didn't move, just stared. He knew what was in those bags. Drugs. "All you have to do is go to this party. Find the basement, go there, and give this bag to the person down there with a red shirt. Get the money- make sure it's 2 grand cash. Don't leave until you counted 2,000."

"No. This is a drug deal," James hissed. "I'm not going this! You do it!"

"I can't. There'll be parents there and the minute they see a guy like me that they don't know… Forget about it. They'll recognize you."

"No they won't. I'm a nobody."

"Not after tonight. Don't let me down, kid," Randall said, giving James a stern and disapproving stare. "This is your chance to make your old man proud."

"You're not my dad. My dad wouldn't be into illegal stuff."

"James. My boy. This is government business," Randall waved, squeezing James's shoulders. "I thought we were cool. You gotta help me. Remember the money."

"How much will I get?"

"However much you want. Just tell them it's delivery fee and they'll pay whatever you want."

"I can't do this," James insisted. "Why me? I don't even know you."

"Because I knew you would be just the man for the job. Any kid of mine must be willing to do anything for the government."

"What kind of government business is this again?"

"Top secret. Not even you can know," Randall said in a whisper. "C'mon. Be cool."

"I am cool."

"So prove it."

James sighed and slung the backpack over his back.


James was nervous enough entering a high school party as a kid that nobody really seemed to notice. He hadn't hit the full extent of puberty, so the girls hadn't noticed him yet. Of course it only made him more skittish going in and seeing the chaperone parents everywhere, any of them liable to rip open his backpack if they felt like it.

When he found the basement, there were more kids in costume down there, some making out. There were no parents, and James guess this was a secret place that the parents didn't know about.

"Is this a joke?" Zach Turner snorted as James approached him. James knew Zach- he was on the varsity football team and was a senior, maybe the most popular guy at school. He was the "guy with the red shirt" that was supposed to pay. "You're the dealer?"

"No, I'm not the dealer," James retorted, trying to prove himself in front of all these people although he was feeling as small as a flea.

"Does it matter?" another guy that James had seen around school prodded. "Just pay him."

"Let's see it first."

James put the backpack on the table before Zach, letting him open and look inside.

"Okay," Zach shrugged, taking out money from his pocket.

"And… And twenty dollars delivery fee," James said as Zach handed him the money. Everyone laughed at that, and Zach handed James three one-hundred dollar bills. Delivery fee.

"What's your name, kid?" Zach asked.

"James."

"I've seen you around- never suspected you were this cool," Zach said, picking up the baggies. "Wanna stay a while?"

James was invited to stay at this banging party, with drugs and popular kids involved? And he got three crisp one-hundred dollar bills when all he was expecting was twenty? This was definitely cool.


James left the party not really sure where he was going or where he even was. His vision was tunneled and his head felt like it might float away.

He walked down the sidewalk for a while before a van stopped beside him and his name was called.

"Did you do it?" Randall asked, getting out of the van to lead James to the passenger seat. "Did you get the money?"

When James didn't respond, Randall pulled the money out of his pocket himself.

"Three hundred bucks? They really skimped out on you," Randall said. "Wait… Are you high?"

James gazed over at Randall and asked, "Are you really my dad? You don't have a reason to lie anymore."

Randall sighed and got into the driver seat, looking over at James.

"Yeah, James. I'm your real dad," he said. "Is your middle name really not Randall?"

"No," James laughed hysterically. "That would be stupid."

"Your fucking mom promised it would be Randall," the man hissed.

"Why don't you come home and talk to her about it?" James suggested. "Then we can all be a happy family again!"

"That's never gonna happen," Randall said frankly, reaching into the back of the van and giving James a can of beer, keeping one for himself.

"This is beer," James hissed. "I'm only 16! I can't drink!"

"You also can't smoke, say cusswords, or do drugs," Randall pointed out. "But you did all of that."

"Are you proud?"

"Sure."

"Good," James nodded, taking a swig from his can.

"And kid? Don't tell your mom that you did anything but hang out with your friends tonight. You never saw me, okay?"

"Yeah I did. I see you right now."

"I'll be mad at you if you tell her I came to get you today," Randall said seriously.

"Okay, I won't tell. But you can't tell on me for everything I did."

"I won't. We're cool."

"Can we hang out some more?" James asked, gazing over happily to his father.

"Maybe."

"If you need my help any more… I'm cool. Remember that."

All James wanted was to be "cool", but now ten years later he knew that it wasn't worth it. He should have slammed the door in his dad's face the very first time he arrive at the would prevent the countless other times he showed up at his doorstep. That would prevent so much.

It would prevent James from quitting his sports and clubs, prevent him from failing his classes. It would prevent him from getting kicked out of his house for that short period of time. Would prevent his jail time.

But it would also prevent all the money he got from it, and what he didn't spend at the time was now in Oliver's savings account. It would prevent him from meeting Val and prevent Oliver from being born.

He was proud to say that Oliver would never know his grandfather. James had finally gotten up the courage to break ties with his dad, since the relationship seemed to be nothing but damaging. It wasn't a father-son relationship, but more friends-and-coworkers. Randall didn't see James as his son, but rather a tool to use in his business.

James believed the whole "war hero" story about his dad for a few months until Randall finally told his son that he had never been in the army and that he left James and his mom because he couldn't handle a baby. Of course this wasn't a peaceful explanation- Randall was high. He was angry at James for "being so stupid and gullable and putting too much trust in a stranger". He explained that James probably had countless half-siblings that even Randall didn't know about.

So naturally after all the hurt his father put him through, James was determined for a healthy relationship with Oliver. He would break the long line of dysfunction.


"Daddy, daddy, daddy!"

The shrill scream cut through James's sleep like a saw, and Oliver climbing into his bed and excitedly climbing on top of him fully woke him up.

"Daddy! Let's make pancakes!" Oliver suggested, still in his camouflage PJ's.

"Pancakes?" James asked sleepily, pulling Oliver from atop him to clutch him to his stomach. "What time is it, Olly?"

"It's nine o'clock," Oliver said smartly.

"Mmm… Let's just sleep for a little longer."

"But I'm so hungry!"

"Me too…" James said, pulling Oliver's hand to his mouth and biting his fingers gently.

"No!" Oliver squealed, pulling his hand away. "Come on, Daddy! It's pancake time!"

"How about we just have waffles? You can make that all by yourself in the toaster."

"But I want pancakes."

"You're a spoiled baby. Do you know that?" James smirked. He had no room to talk- his mom spoiled him the same way.

"I'm not a baby."

"Yes you are," James taunted. "How about we sleep until 9:30?"

"Fiiiine," Oliver sighed. "I'll wake you up as soon as it turns that."

"Okay."

James was proud of Oliver- he was so young yet knew numbers and time, and he was starting to understand days of the week and what days his dad had to work.

Of course James couldn't get back to sleep, but he was just happy to be laying there with his son in his arms, even if Oliver was turned over watching the clock meticulously. In the period of time where Val wouldn't let him see Oliver, he was determined to not let their relationship turn out like James's was with his father. He had to be in his life- in a positive way. And now he was.

James lay there with his son, smelling the child's fine hair and letting himself just relax. There was one person he would always enjoy being with and he knew would always enjoy being with him- Oliver.

Well, maybe that wasn't true anymore. He had Kendall now.

James watched the clock strike 9:30, but Oliver didn't move. James shifted a little to see that the boy had fallen asleep. He chuckled and gently got out of bed to make pancakes.