Warning: You might be wondering why we're updating off our schedule (updating at all). We're big believers in hearing the good news before the bad so savor the chapter. When you read the a/n at the bottom your heart might end up as broken as ours…
…
We Fall Between
…
The trouble with always being the center of attention is the way prying eyes refuse to look away, especially when adoration turns sour. If anything, the eyes only stare longer and harder. Maeve Benson is no exception. When Max breaks up with her one morning out by her car, every whisper, every text and every laugh is without a doubt about her.
Kaylie watches as Maeve unravels. Her dark, meticulously straightened hair whips from side to side as she barrels down the school hallway, nearly knocking over innocent bystanders. She shoves her way into the nearest bathroom and Kaylie follows. She watches as Maeve twists a silver ring off her finger on her left hand and throws it at the mirror with enough force to make a startling sound, but not enough to break the glass. Max gave her that ring, inscribed with "till hell freezes over." Kaylie doesn't think she's ever seen Maeve without it.
"He. Broke. Up. With. Me!" Maeve's chest heaves as she pauses between each word, seething.
"Did he say why?"
Maeve laughs, but it's more of a cackle, coming off as insane with the acoustics of the bathroom. The door loudly swings open and Maeve snaps, appearing just as insane as she sounds, a mix of tears and mascara running down her cheeks.
"YOU BEING HERE IS A PROBLEM! OUT!" Maeve screams.
The poor, frighten girl quickly walks out before Kaylie can apologize on her friend's behalf.
"He pulled a it's not you, it's me, but I hope we can be friends combo!" Maeve contorts her fingers as she paces in front of the bathroom mirror. "I knew this would happen. Once the cracks start forming, there's no fixing it. Cracks your bestie, Lauren Tanner, started!"
Kaylie doesn't believe that or at least she doesn't want to. Regardless, she doesn't have the heart to defend Lauren when Maeve is falling apart. She kicks the trashcan and sends it slamming into the opposite wall. Kaylie extends her hand, but Maeve refuses to be touched. She's too lost in it to feel anything beyond her anger.
"I knew this was going to happen and I should have stopped it, but I didn't even try." Maeve turns her murderous glare on Kaylie. "Because you said you'd take care of it and I believed you. I trusted you! But you didn't, did you? You just let her pull the crap she does."
"Maeve, you can't be blaming me. Max—"
"I'm not blaming you, Kaylie." Maeve takes a breath. Her hands shake, making the bracelets around her thin wrists rattle. She leans back against the wall and slowly slides down, crouched in the corner. "Things are just…all wrong."
Before Kaylie can approach her, the door swings open and in comes the cavalry, Maeve's senior friends. They swarm her as she bursts into tears. Feeling useless and shaken, Kaylie slips out of the bathroom and no one says a word. She hunts the halls for Lauren. It's too late to make a difference, but Kaylie needs reassurance for her own peace of mind.
"It was a-mah -zing! Seriously, Em, it was like reality TV. Like she didn't get a rose at the final rose ceremony. She went ba-fricking-llistic! You'd think Perfect Maeve Benson would be able to take a breakup with some level of dignity. I wish I got pictures."
Kaylie should be desensitized to Lauren's badmouthing by now, but instead, she feels her blood heat up. Her Cruz temper flares. Gathering her own anger and frustration, Kaylie marches over and yanks Lauren away by her arm.
"Kay, what the hell?"
"We need to talk. Now. Alone!"
Emily is stunned, doesn't know how to respond, so Kaylie takes charge and drags Lauren away despite the way the blonde fights her. After finding a fairly secluded corner of the school, Kaylie goes on the offensive. "Lauren, tell me you were not just talking about Max and Maeve's breakup like it was some stupid, trashy reality TV show!"
Lightly tracing over the red tint of her skin, aching for a summer tan, Lauren treads carefully. "As if you don't see the parallels, emphasis on stupid and trashy."
"Don't talk to me about parallels! You don't even write your own English essays! Their relationship just ended and you sounded excited about it. What is wrong with you?"
"You want me to be a little more sensitive? Not that Maeve ever gave me the courtesy."
"Was there anything going on between you and Max?" Kaylie asks, straight up.
Lauren is floored. Kaylie feels a twinge of guilt, but ignores it.
"Max Spencer?" Lauren searches for clarity. She has the nerve to feign confusion. "Kaylie, he's practically my boss. Given the fact that I'm not even getting paid, probation officer might work better. Why do you even feel the need to ask?"
"Just yes or no would be fine, Lo."
"Why? So you can run back and tell Maeve?"
"He dumped her after he started hanging out with you." Kaylie's own paranoia comes through. It's hard to deny that she can relate to Maeve's logic. "All I need is for you to tell me nothing went on between you two and that you had no role in their breakup. Then we can drop it."
"I don't even understand why I'm being accused in the first place," Lauren argues. She always has to be difficult. "Based on what evidence? I got into a stupid fight with stupid Alison and Matsui forced me to work on the stupid yearbook and so I'm stuck taking orders from Max. Yeah, it definitely sounds like romance novel material."
"Don't pretend you're so innocent. I've seen you two, Lauren—"
"Seen us what?"
"I'm pretty sure Emily doesn't talk to her boss the way you talk to Max."
Kaylie doesn't say the word slut, but it's on the tip of her tongue and Lauren looks like she expects it. Kaylie doesn't assume Lauren is guilty, but a piece of her admits it's plausible.
"Can we just get this over with?" Kaylie asks. "Since you bailed on the squad, I have a lot to do and Maeve falling apart doesn't make any of this easier. Just tell me the truth. What? You and Max would hang out during yearbook, take pictures of and with each other. Flirt?"
"Bottom line, Kaylie: I don't want Max. Never did."
Kaylie can't deny her disappointment. Slap on the scarlet letter. "Great," she says. "I hope you know that when you avoid the question like that I just assume it's a confession."
Lauren plants her hand on her hip, switching gears. "Let me ask you something, Kay. Do you think it's normal that Maeve is hounding you about sins I've supposedly committed? What friend asks a friend to do that? And you just do it! Why do you feel obligated to do her dirty work like one of Queen Maeve's mindless little worker bees? What happened to you? You're calling me out? Me! We've bee best friends since the freaking uterus!"
"You're still avoiding the question."
"Kaylie, I flirt with everyone! Flirting is flirting. Just words. Sometimes looks. Smiles. It helps pass the time. It doesn't mean I'm writing Mrs. Max Spencer on my notebooks or trying to imagine what our children will look like. I. Don't. Want. Max. And I'm not the reason they broke up. Trust me. A lot more factors into that than me flirting with him."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kaylie sees the hesitation. Lauren knows something. Kaylie takes a determined step forward. "What other factors?"
"Factors that don't involve either of us, Kaylie."
More avoidance. What a complete copout.
"My point is: flirting is just flirting. It isn't anything."
"Just like how sex is just sex, right?" Kaylie asks.
Now things are getting personal, but Kaylie wouldn't take it back. No way.
"Yes," Lauren says. Kaylie turns up her eyes. She should have known Lauren would answer that way. Before she can express how unsurprised she is, Lauren takes a surprisingly determined step of her own. "Yes, Kaylie. When it comes down to it, sex is just sex. Hands are just hands and touching is just touching and your body react the way it reacts. It's how we're built. It's what we do."
"No. There's always a choice."
"Just like how it was Max's choice to break up with Maeve so there's no point in you and me getting heated over it. So you can go run and tell Maeve that and we can end this."
"Why do you always do that?" Kaylie grinds her sandals into the pavement. "Maeve is completely broken up over this. I'm just trying to do the right thing and get her some sort of explanation. She was the only one who had my back when you screwed me over and got Emily and Payson to side with you."
"Is that really how you see things? It sounds like something Maeve spoon-fed you. Wow, and I told Payson she needs to check her loyalties? Ever since you ditched us for the popular table."
"Oh, quit pretending, Lauren." Kaylie irritably throws her fists down at her sides. "We all know you're jealous of Maeve. Just admit it already."
"Okay, so I'm doing my best to cheer up Emily because her whole life gets more screwed up by the day incase you forgot since you're oh so wrapped up in your Kaylie-centered world and you come out of nowhere attacking me because maybe I flirt with Max? This is ridiculous! Isn't it time for Nicky and you to get into one of your stupid fights? I like you a lot more when you're bitching about him rather than bitching at me."
"Just lay off Maeve. Stop talking crap about her in the halls. She's my friend. Deal with it."
The blonde puts on an evil smile and Kaylie finds it infuriating. "You know that once you tell someone not to do something they have to do it, right? Something about forbidden fruit…"
"God. Grow up, Lauren."
"Like Maeve is a little saint who never talks about me behind my back? Please. Just so we're clear, Kaylie, I don't want anything to do with Maeve Benson and I sure as hell didn't try to steal her boyfriend." Under her breath Lauren murmurs, "I learned not to waste my time on boys who cheat."
Kaylie flinches. "What did you just say?"
"Are we done here? And Em and Pay think I go out of my way to antagonize you? You and Payson were fighting and Pay doesn't fight with anyone! You're always looking for reasons to pick fights with your boyfriend. Now this."
"You're one to talk. You don't know how hard you make it to be your friend!" Kaylie shouts. "It's like babysitting a slutty little kid. I'm always getting backlash from my friends for the things you do solely because our moms were friends. Lauren, I mean it, just grow up already! The shit you constantly pull isn't funny anymore."
"Wow."
The severity of the blow doesn't register with Kaylie until she sees the tears prick at Lauren's eyes and the way her lips twitch. It's too harsh, too bold to take back. A part of her thinks to, but her vocal chords aren't responding. Lauren takes a step closer and Kaylie thinks to block her face, but her arms refuse to react. Maybe her body knows she deserves what's coming.
"So this is your new honesty policy in action?" Lauren asks. Deadly. Chilling.
Kaylie stares at the ground, but it doesn't diminish the rage that radiates off of Lauren as she moves even closer. Kaylie said it in the heat of the moment, but she can't seem to apologize or take it back either. Maybe it was honesty brought upon by fire. From the look of things, Lauren is about to return the ash-flavored favor.
"My turn. Kaylie, do you see what you're doing right now? You're so wrapped up in someone else's relationship that you don't even see what's going wrong with yours."
In her slinky, smoky voice, Lauren gives Kaylie exactly what she's been chasing since the summer—the truth.
"Nicky Russo and Kelly Parker, your boyfriend and his bitch bestie, yeah, he fucked her. Actually, what I heard word-for-word, he used her for sex and I think it's safe to assume your sweet, perfect boy fucked her repeatedly. He fucked her and he broke her and he threw her away when he moved on to you."
If she wasn't high on adrenaline, Lauren would probably have had the decency to feel bad or appear sympathetic, but she doesn't. Lauren's expression is more of game, set, match, bitch.
When Kaylie speaks, her voice is nearly inaudible. "Wh—who told you?"
"Austin Tucker."
"Does Payson know?" Kaylie asks. "Have you all known this whole time? I am such an idiot."
"Maybe now you'll consider paying more attention to your own boyfriend."
Kaylie's eyes start to tear up as she stares Lauren down with an expression too harsh and ugly for the naturally pretty face. "God, Lo, you can be such a bitch. I don't even know why I bother with you anymore."
"I don't know why I bothered with you in the first place!" Lauren shouts, now with tears on her cheeks. "Oh, right. Solely because our moms were friends."
Kaylie doesn't wait another second before she steps towards Lauren with so much force that the blonde lifts her arm, expecting a palm across the face. Instead, Kaylie shoulders pass her and marches away. Kaylie blazes down the hall, in a state of mind that easily transcends pissed the fuck off. She yanks her phone free from her pocket and selects the contact at the top of her recent calls list. Marcus turns a corner, almost bumps into her, and when he sees her face, he catches on fairly quickly.
"Kaylie, is everything okay?"
She keeps walking and doesn't show a single sign that she even saw him there.
"Wait a second, Kaylie. You know the cell phones during school hours rule! Kaylie!"
The girl in the pink sweater continues on her way, following her one-track mind hell-bent on figuring out how she could have been so stupid, ignoring her gut feeling for months. The call goes straight through to voicemail. It's the middle of the school day so she isn't surprised.
"…At the tone please record your message. When you've finished recording, you may hang up or press the pound key for more options."
Beep.
"Kelly Parker!" Kaylie shouts. Anger leaves little room for rational thought. "Did you…have you...slept with her? Her. According to what I've heard, slept with isn't close to the right term." Kaylie takes a moment. A breath. "Please, baby, I need you to tell me Lauren is making things up. Just, call me as soon as you get this."
Her fingers shake. Her head throbs. All hurts. She doesn't want to believe it, but a big part of her has known it all along. Kaylie Cruz is the last one to the party as usual.
…
"Nicky and Kelly Parker?" Emily makes a face.
"I don't get it either," Lauren says, "but come on. Kaylie has had her suspicions for what now? Oh, only their entire relationship! At least it feels like it with how much she complains about them. And Payson has known since the summer. She didn't tell Kaylie either yet I'm the Whore of Babylon getting stoned by the vending machines."
"But you aren't friends with Kelly like Payson is."
"Something tells me technicalities aren't going to save any of us from hashtag-Kaylie-Rage."
Sitting in Lauren's car, parked on the side of the school, Emily plays with a loose string on her tattered sweater. She admires Lauren's attempted humor, but realizes how it isn't helping.
"And I'll be honest, I don't regret it," Lauren says. "Screw being the better person if it means having to take undeserved crap from the person I'm making an effort for. She brought up last summer and in her twisted head she thinks you and Pay took my side. Maybe everything with Carter and AJ was too much. Maybe we were stupid to think we could get past it."
Emily's lips curve down in a frown and she reaches over to place her hand on the back of Lauren's. "Did Kaylie really say the only reason you're friends is because of your moms?"
"Word-for-fucking-word! This whole thing is stupid. Where does she come off accusing me of ruining Max and Maeve?" Lauren slams her hands against the steering wheel while Emily counters with the raise of her brows. "Okay, flirting, yeah, guilty, but trying to steal him? That's just dumb. I'm just so over this day. Can we please just get out of here and go eat something comforting yet terrible for me."
"Tacos," they say simultaneously.
"They're the hipster sandwich," Emily says lightly. "After, can we stop by Brian's school?"
Lauren agrees and drives out her frustration. Emily can feel it. Lauren is in complete control and not once does Emily feel unsafe in the car with her. She puts on an old Spice Girls song because she knows it'll make Lauren feel better and they quietly sing along for the rest of the drive to their favorite Mexican food stop and then to the private school.
"Henley suggests—or rather, demands—Thai food for dinner," Lauren reads off her text.
"I still think it's weird you two are so tight. Lo, you text each other throughout the day. I don't even get texts from her and we're partially related."
Lauren smiles for the first time all afternoon. "Winning over the Sheppard family one-by-one."
When Emily spots her brother among the sea of bright, adolescent minds, Emily leaves her foil-wrapped tacos on the dashboard, grabs the brown paper bag and rushes after him.
"Bry!" Emily shouts. He spots her and so do his friends, but then Brian brings his hands down to the wheels at his sides and starts going in the opposite direction. "Brian!"
One of his friends says something, but Brian ignores it. When Emily finally catches up to him, she blocks his path. His friends are uncomfortable and bad at hiding it. They obviously have a better insight into what's going on in Brian's head. Emily waits, filling with dread.
"Hey," Emily says. "What's going on?"
"What's going on?" Brian sounds so angry, angrier than she's ever heard him. He gives his friends a glance and give them some space. "What's going on is I haven't seen you for almost an entire week, Emily."
"Brian, it's okay. I'm fine. I—"
"What's wrong is that mom is more depressed than ever, worse than when we were behind on payments and they shut off the electricity, even worse than when nana passed away. She's like a zombie, crying at night while Bruce is passed out. And you left! That's what's wrong!"
"Are you kidding me?" Emily tries really hard not to lose her composure in a public place. "Brian, you were there that night. Bruce was drunk. She was making excuses for him. Mom hit me. What was I supposed to do? Go cry in my bed and let them think they won?"
"What is there to win, Emily? From where I stand or, well, not stand but whatever, everyone lost that night."
He's right, she realizes, but he's also wrong.
Emily squats at his side. "I'm sorry you have to live with that, but I'm not crawling back. I can't. It isn't even a pride thing; it's a principle thing. I can take care of myself and that's what I'm going to do. I know it's all a mess, but, Bry, you need to understand."
"I understand." On the contrary, his voice holds no understanding, just spite. "You aren't sorry. You're selfish. The only person you're looking out for right now is yourself. After all the things you told me about family being most important and how you'd never desert us?"
"Hey! I love you." Emily grabs him by the shoulder, wishing he'd look at her. "You're my baby brother, but what you're asking me to do…I can't. I can't be there right now, Brian. It doesn't mean I can't be there for you—"
"That's exactly what it means." Brian wheels himself away. The one time he looks at her throughout the encounter, it's only long enough to utter, "Et tu, Brute?"
Emily watches as Brian goes to join his friend and leaves her standing there with the untouched tacos her drug slinging money bought for him. She ends up saving the tacos for the boys at work because that's where she goes next. She picks up whatever extra shifts she can because work is a nice distraction. Rigo and Brad's banter always lifts her spirits somewhat.
"Are you sure you're okay, Em?"
"About as okay as you right now," she replies. "I just don't get why things can't every be stable, you know? It's like all we do is stumble and fall."
"You know what they say, life it tough; get a helmet." Lauren gives her this smile that's dim, but so full of effort. Emily can see why Kaylie would want to live a life away from Lauren Tanner, but actually going through with it is unimaginable to Emily. "I'll pick you up tonight. Keep holding on, Kemmy-Ko."
"Because we'll make it through. LoTan."
When Emily walks into the Shack, she isn't met by the BMX bikeheads arm wrestling for money from the tip jar, but instead, Rigo has his exited smile on as he holds his phone out and snaps a picture of himself with Emily's ex-boyfriend. Damon looks less than thrilled about the fan encounter, but Rigo is so starstruck he doesn't notice. Emily freezes in the doorway, waiting for him to disappear like a mirage. He doesn't.
When Damon spots her near the door, his forced smile softens into something more real, sadder. Emily feels a wave of goosebumps trail up and down her arms. How could she have forgotten those eyes? Emily cautions herself against his natural ability to compel.
"Kmetko! Look who's here! Look who came in looking for you!" Rigo yells across the room. She takes careful steps over and turns to her coworker with a small smile, excited about his excitement. She still feels Damon's eyes and it leaves her flustered. "All the times we talked about Damon Young and not once did you think to mention you knew him?"
"You talk about me?" Damon asks. Emily hears the smile in the musical rise of his voice. Damn him and his damn sweet voice.
"Only about how you're a one hit wonder!" comes a voice from the kitchen. Brad.
"He's just jealous," Rigo says. He clasps Damon's shoulder with his ape-hand. Damon is clearly disturbed by Rigo's casual oblivious. Emily finds it oddly satisfying.
"Damon, what are you doing here?" she asks.
"Like Rigo said—" If she wasn't so keyed up, Emily would be amuse by the way Rigo practically does a backflip over Damon knowing his name. "—I was hoping you'd be working."
"How did you know I work here?"
"Stalker!" Brad interjects. Emily smiles a little.
"AJ Cruz, actually," Damon says. "You must be pretty great for him to be so protective. He has not been making my stay in Colorado all that pleasant. I'm pretty sure he'll break my kneecaps with an autographed baseball bat if he finds I was here."
"Are you asking me to tell AJ to back off?"
"No, Emily, of course not." Damon stops when he realizes Rigo is still standing between them, following their interaction like a tennis match. "Hey, Rigo, can you give us a sec?"
"Oh, yeah, for sure. But just to be clear, whatever's happening here," he motions between Emily and Damon with wiggling fingers, "isn't going to interfere with the show, right?"
"What show?" Emily asks.
"The super secret acoustic set Damon's going to play here!" Rigo explains. Emily's ready to change his name to fanboy in her phone. "If I can get Doug to okay it—which I'm sure he will because any exposure for the Shack is good exposure—Damon agreed to do a little intimate jam sesh since he's in town, working on his new record."
"I've been waiting a really long time for you to get here." Damon nods to Rigo. "Sure, man. Em, can we talk?"
She glances at the clock. Why did she come into work early again? She should have entertained Lauren's suggestion that they drive around aimlessly, blasting old Jesse McCartney songs for a little while longer.
In a wordless agreement, Emily starts toward one of the booths towards the back and Damon follows. On his way to the kitchen, Rigo nearly knocks over a trashcan from how he's still watching Damon. Even from across the room, Emily and Damon can hear Rigo's loud, enthusiastic chatter. The words are hard to decipher, infused with excitement.
"He's…interesting," Damon says. "I think the other one likes you."
"So where've you been?"
This isn't a conversation between two old friends. Emily gets straight to the point.
"Look, Emily, that's not what I'm here to talk about."
"Unbelievable! You can't do this, okay? You can't mysteriously send me flowers and sing songs to me over the phone and come by my work and make my coworker fall in love with you. As if it wasn't hard enough getting over you while you were nowhere to be found. How do you expect me to move on when you're invading my life like this?"
"What if I don't want you to move on?" Damon's fingers twitch like he's itching to grab her hand, to hold it, to connect. She doesn't give him the opportunity and keeps her hands off the table along with her heart. "Okay, I know. That isn't fair. And to be honest, I'm not in a place where I could even be in a relationship, but I don't want things to be like this."
"What are things even like, Damon?"
"Going from being together and very much in love to wanting absolutely nothing to do with each another. I've played with the formula before: friends, lovers and ending up strangers. It always felt like the natural order of romance, but I never cared about anyone as much as you. Now it all just seems stupid—brushing it off when at one point it meant the world to me. Us."
He has that slow, romantic way of talking. It hurts to resist, but she knows it'll hurt even more if she trusts him just to watch him disappear all over again.
"But why revisit something proven not to work?"
Damon gently knocks his knuckles against the table, stuck.
"Hey, Kmetko!" From over by the door, Carter waves at her. He's high, so freaking high. Emily sinks a bit further down in the booth. "Are we gonna rock this shift or what?"
Emily halfheartedly smiles and lifts her hand in an almost-wave as Carter announces that he has the munchies and heads into the kitchen.
"You sure are popular around here." Damon gives her a lazy one-eighth of a smile.
"You didn't answer my question, Damon."
"Emily, I'm not asking to revisit how we used to be, alright? I already know I'd end up disappointing you and that's the last thing I want. I just don't want us to be strangers. I care about you and that's too special to kill just because we aren't in a relationship."
"It's not that easy, Damon. You won't even tell me where you've been or what you've been doing and, oh, we haven't talked about how you got your manager to break up with me!"
"I know that was a shitty move, but…"
"I need to get to work." Emily starts to walk away, but then spins around, shifting her weight from foot to foot, weighing her options. "I'm not going to do you any favors with AJ and I'm not going to tell you to call off your show at the Shack. But I'm telling you that I need closure. I need to know what was so important that you cut ties with everyone. Until you can give me that, Damon, being strangers is all I can handle. Because that's what we are."
…
"It's official. Henley Sheppard, you are the new Kaylie."
Lauren drags a brush dipped in baby doll pink across Henley's middle fingernail. Emily is across the room, standing in front of the full-length mirror in her Pizza Shack uniform, collecting her hair to be tied up.
Without looking up from the notes Marcus wrote in the margins of Lauren's most recent essay, Henley asks, "Is that supposed to be offensive?"
Emily makes a face at herself in the mirror. "It's one of those things Lauren says and we all pretend we didn't hear. Lauren replaces Kaylie all the time."
"Not all the time." Lauren dips the brush into the cylinder and goes to coat the next nail. "Okay, Ike was a total snap judgment, but this time I've had a few days since our public display of alienation. I personally think Henley is the perfect Kaylie replacement. She likes books like you, she has the whole robotic determination thing going on like Pay and she appreciates the art of fashion like muah. I smell Four material. I dare you to argue."
Emily plays with the strands of hair that she didn't quite catch. She doesn't say anything. Though she refuses to acknowledge it, Lauren is still bruised over the encounter and hasn't spoken to Kaylie since.
"Lo, I know things are rough right now, but we can't shun Kaylie."
"I'm not talking about suddenly cutting her out of our lives. What kind of person do you think I am, Emily? That's why I need you to start working on her termination e-mail." Lauren finishes Henley's last nail and recaps the nail polish. "Chop, chop!"
"Quick question," Henley says. "Who's Kaylie again?"
"The one I told you about. The bitchy princess who thinks she owns the world."
"Lauren!" Emily scolds. "We aren't calling Kaylie the bitchy princess. She's our friend."
"Ah." Henley nods. "The one whose boyfriend embodies the typical male stereotype of being emotionally inexpressive and so she thinking it's the woman's job to coax him into expressing said emotions in order to keep the relationship conflict free." Lauren nods and grabs a bottle of clear coat from the vanity drawer. "It's a destructive trap, her putting his needs above hers or holding herself responsible for his emotions in general. Someone should tell her."
Lauren laughs. "Good luck. Not like Kaylie listens to anyone except bestie, Maeve Benson."
Emily takes her turn to rationalize. "Kaylie thinks Payson and I chose Lauren over her. Maeve, on the other hand, never would. And you have to admit you do talk about Maeve like she's a horseman of the apocalypse. More than you ever did about Kelly Parker."
"Kelly Parker is so last season's Big Bad," Lauren says, "but I should probably watch my back after dropping the whole Nicky and Kelly bomb. I had a rage blackout, I swear."
"Hmm, sure. Is Payson still not talking to you?" Emily asks.
"Yeah, but I can't exactly start Operation Make Pay Love Me Again until she gets back," Lauren reasons. "I'm just so sick of dwelling on all of this. It's Friday and you know what they say…"
"What is 'thank God it's Friday'?" Henley guesses.
"I'm sorry, that's incorrect," Lauren replies. "The answer we were looking for comes from the song by American recording artist, Rebecca Black. Gotta get down on Friday."
Henley deadpans. "What does that even mean?"
Emily walks over so Lauren can see her in the reflection of the vanity mirror. "So you're going to ignore everything going on with Kaylie and get trashed?"
"Yes?" The only reason Lauren winces is Emily's concern. "These days Kaylie seems less like our friend and more like the girl who has all her shit constantly mixed up to the point where it makes her legitly insane. It makes me legitly insane. Can't I put it aside for one night?"
"Legitly isn't a word," Emily and Henley say at the same time.
"See. My point exactly! Kaylie wouldn't know that. Kaylie wouldn't even think to question it. Henley wouldn't randomly start shit with me because she's sexually frustrated."
"Lauren's right. I wouldn't," Henley agrees. "I'd rather not engage in petty drama."
"A non-engager. Exactly what we need!" Lauren raises her eyebrows at Emily who denies the request. "Fine. Whatever. Are you sure you have to work tonight? I'm not trying to make you jealous, but things are going to get cray."
"Gee, Lo, I wish," Emily says with mock disappointment. "But the schedule has been out for a week now and it's too late to try to find a replacement. Plus, I could really use the money."
Lauren slides the brush back into the bottle and hops over to sit on the bed with Emily. Henley complains about how only one set of her fingernails are clear coated, but Lauren ignores her and wraps her arms around Emily. They haven't talked about the other afternoon outside of Brian's school and Lauren has been quietly worrying ever since.
"You know money isn't an issue, right?" Lauren assures her.
"No, Lo. No more mooching off you." Emily tilts her head and her bangs swish across her forehead. "So, what are you two up to on a wild Friday night in Boulder?"
Lauren excitedly shimmies her hips. It's proof that not all instances of Lo being Lo have to be negative. "No more nights spent in pajamas with my DVD collection. Henley and I are getting all dolled up and sluttified and we are going to a dirty, crazy frat party!"
"I'm praying you know 'sluttified' isn't a real word." Henley carefully adds a clear coat to each of her nails, but when Lauren's words resonate in her head, the brush veers so polish seeps into the crack between nail and skin. "Wait, we're what?"
"You heard right. Henley P. Sheppard, I am corrupting you!" Lauren needs something to focus on. It might as well be social rehabilitation. She briefly wonders if she can put this on a college application. "You need to get out of the house and Dar has been nagging me about seeing the girls at CU Boulder. Who knows? Maybe Henley will get laid."
Emily sets her jaw. "Lauren."
"Em, chill." Lauren laughs. "You're acting like I'm about to throw her into a knife fight with a spork. Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise. Can you imagine how pissed Razor would be if something did and he found out I was babysitting?"
"I don't need a babysitter," Henley says. "Wow, Lauren, your genuine concern for my wellbeing is staggering, really."
"Henley, all you do while we're at school is hang around here, alone, and watch the History Channel. Those shoes I gave you are too hot to waste away in your luggage. My house. My rules. And I get to do your makeup and your hair and choose your outfit!"
After she recaps the nail polish, Henley's shoulders slump. "Do I have to?"
Emily laughs. "Live in the Barbie dream house, live by Barbie's rules. That includes dress up."
"Lucky me." Henley's sarcasm needs no hashtag. "And next maybe we can bring the convertible by for that Barbie pink paintjob it's lacking. Sounds like a grand ol' time. I don't know why I haven't visited you Colorado kids before now."
"Hey, don't put ideas in her head," Emily warns. A phone buzzes and Lauren notices that it isn't the cell Emily has had for years now. It's just as simple, but all black. Emily turns it over in her palm, types back a quick text and shoves it into her back pocket. "My ride's here. Lo, how are you getting home? I don't want you drinking and driving. If you need me to ask Ja—"
"I won't be drinking," Lauren assures her. Emily stops everything she's doing and gives her blonde friend a stern look. "Emily Kmetko, I'm perfectly capable of being sober and fun at the same time. If anything, we'll call a cab. I don't need you to set us up with a DD. It'll be fine."
"Okay. Be safe." Emily shrugs on a sweater while simultaneously sliding her feet into her flats. "And give Henley the speech about open drinks, especially from Darby."
"I'll loan her the rape whistle too." Just before Emily walks out the door, Lauren shouts, "Wait, how are you getting to work? Please tell me it isn't Red Beanie Boy. You know I don't like you hanging out with him outside of tutoring. He gives me bad vibes."
Emily smiles at Lauren's concern and grabs her canvas bag off the floor. "Ike is waiting. I want him to do some extra practice problems and he volunteered to drive me, probably hoping to get free food out of it. You two have fun tonight. I'll probably be home before you."
Lauren sees the pain on Emily's face when she realizes she referred to the Tanner house as home. Lauren is ready to hug it out, but before she can, Emily waves and rushes out.
"Text me if anything! Especially if that damn Damon Young harasses you again!" Lauren shouts after her. Though she hears Emily shout back, "okay!" it doesn't make Lauren rest any easier. "Jesus. When did I become such a mom?"
"She's trying really hard not to like him," Henley says. "Red Beanie Boy. Damon too."
"I know. I also know she's still in love with Damon."
After putting the polish back where it belongs, Henley spins to face Lauren. "If it's of any comfort to you, I've known Damon for a long time and I've never seen him so serious and so happy in a relationship."
"Same with Emily." Lauren pulls one knee up to her chest and wrapping her arm around it. "I also haven't seen her break down over someone the way she did when he disappeared."
Henley doesn't react, just holds her fingernails out to the light for a better view.
"Alright. I was serious about no more depressing crap. It's Fridays!" Lauren can mask it so easily. At least, it comes easy to her. She could care less about how the outside world interprets it. "Henley Sheppard, we are going to this party and we aren't leaving until you are so trashed you stop correcting my grammar and pointing out how I enjoy using made up words. Too bad it isn't an Aztec party. We finally have a virgin to sacrifice."
Henley is a pretty little pedantic doll and eases Lauren's Only Child Syndrome. Lauren loses herself in pallets of colors and tubes of gloss. She holds up a pair of scissors and makes a She's All That reference, but it flies right over Henley's head.
"Lauren, there's a Clash of the Gods marathon starting with Beowulf and Norse mythology; then the legend of the Minotaur! Odysseus! Wouldn't you rather stay in tonight?"
"No." Lauren doesn't even add the duh because that much must be obvious. "There's this neat little modern godsend called the DVR. Just hit record and you can watch it tomorrow. Shep, your giraffe legs look fab in that dress. We aren't about to let it go to waste."
Lauren has to literally drag Henley out the door. They drive with the hood up because they spent all that time on their hair and it's low fifties out, give or take a few degrees. Within the next week or two, the spring weather should start moving in, sunshine, high sixties and seventies. With how campus housing is partying it must mean dead week and finals are approaching. They have to get it all out before hibernating in the library until spring break.
The ZBZ sorority house is a teenage boy's wet dream (minus broken pillows and feathers all around) because president, Dictator Diana Meade, demands perfection. Watching Henley trying to adapt to her environment is like watching a long legged baby animal try to walk for the first time. She's a social nightmare, but the other girls find it amusing, already on their third round of shots, pre-gaming before the party.
"Your friend is strange." Darby bounces up to Lauren and slings her thin, glittery arm around her former grasshopper's neck. "Do I want to know where you found this one?"
"Call me Lauren Tanner: patron saint of the socially retarded." Lauren gives her a mischievous smile. "I don't want her throwing up in my car, but drunk enough to loosen up."
"My specialty." Darby grabs ahold of Brie Mason, a blonde girl with blue eyes, a little too much eyeliner and a Los Angeles Lakers snapback hat sitting crooked atop her head. Darby whispers in her ear and Brie giggles before sashaying over to the others and announces it's time for another round. They break out the unmarked bottle of tequila, limes and salt. "Why don't you and your girl crash at the house tonight? You seem a little tense. In need of some unwinding of your own. In the morning, after nursing the newbies' hangovers, we have group hot yoga and I'm craving kale smoothies."
Lauren bites back the ew. Kale smoothies? Really?
"Thanks, but no thanks. Emily is working the night shift at the Shack. I don't want her home alone tonight. She's going through stuff." Lauren is vague mostly because she doesn't quite understand what Emily is going through herself. She just knows that she has to be there.
"Poor Em. I hope everything's okay," Darby says. "Heads up, Theta Kappa Kappa hoes are going to be everywhere tonight. I hear Puckerman has been Walk of Shaming out of there."
Lauren snorts. "TMI, Dar."
"Stay away from the dogs, Baby Sis."
A couple of the other Zetas call them over for shots and Henley makes a valid case against binge drinking, but peer pressure wins out. Lauren knows the girl is on some sort of pills, but Henley won't be operating heavy machinery and isn't pregnant. Everyone should experience what it's like to tell life to fuck itself and get shitfaced at least once.
"Four shots and seven Jäger bombs ago! Our forefathers brought something…something about conceive—conceiving?" Darby giggles, standing atop the dining room table, making another of her infamous drunk history speeches. "Conceive-duh. Anyways, I don 'member the rest, but Abe Lincoln did some stuff. He was a good dude so Imma try to 'member the rest…"
"LT, your girl is making a fool outta herself."
Jake grins at her, a frat boy with a grin so animated it borderlines on cartoonish. His classic black hoodie has Greek letters across the chest in yellow, CU school colors. He has an empty water bottle in one hand and playfully drums it against the palm of his other. He drags the tip of his tongue across his lips, blatantly checking her out. Shy is the last word you'd use to describe Jake.
"My girl? Suddenly Darby is no longer your sister and my responsibility?"
Jake rubs his hand over his cleanly buzzed head. "Didn't you hear her? Four shots and seven Jägerbombs ago. Damn, she is murdering the Gettysburg Address. Poor Abe's probably rollin' in his tomb." When he sees her looking at him, Jake smiles. "W'sup, Barbie. Where're the other dolls? We need to keep up our tradition of failing to pressure Emily into drinking."
"Work," Lauren answers. "And before you ask, I'm warning you, don't mention Kaylie."
"Okay, cool, but you know I gotta ask about that one over there."
Jake nods into the next room. Henley has no tolerance for liquor whatsoever. Lauren almost regrets cheering her on as she made her way through hards like a divorcees through speed dating. The girl wobbles and smiles and talks loud with her arm around the girl in the Laker snapback, a girl she barely knows. With alcohol in her system, Henley apparently develops multiple personality disorder, transforming from one Spice Girl to the next every few minutes. Her British accent is dead on. Henley is a hit at the party, especially with the boys.
"Mine," Lauren says. "Do me a favor, Jay? Get it circulating that she's with me. I don't want any of your gross frat brothers or musclehead wrestlers or worst of all, Boulder Boozers trying to get their meaty fingers on her."
"Damn. House Mother Tanner." Jake grabs one of his boys who's easily 6'3" and built like a brick wall. After a quick conversation and pounding fists, Jake's back at her side. "So, you aren't drinking, you're using your scare tactics for good, not evil, and the kicker—words like responsibility. What high school boy tied you down?"
"No boy." Lauren feels a little thrill. She never thought that'd feel so good to say.
"You still runnin' with AJ Cruz?"
"I wouldn't say running. We still talk. Did you hear he's a dad?"
"Yeah, Amelia. Cute kid. My parents and Darby love her. I hear AJ's pretty responsible when it comes to playing baby daddy. Poor Shauna's gotta put up with that."
"Have you seen them together? She likes having him shackled to her. She seems happy." Lauren's expression can only be described as grim acceptance. "They seem happy together."
Jake nods, still observing Henley, who screams, "No, I take French! Why is everyone speaking Spanish? I only know hola!"
Jake laughs aloud and the amusement in his voice makes Lauren feel a surge of pride. She created an amusing little drunk monster and is proud. With her attention on Jake, Lauren asks, "So what's your deal? Why aren't you wasted and sloppily hitting on me yet?"
"Pshh, please, girl, I'm an athlete." Jake grins. If he had a collar, he'd pop it. "We have a meet this weekend. I tend to do better when I'm sober. Just showing face here. Why aren't you wasted and playing hard to get?"
Lauren smiles more at the memories than anything. It was a fun game once upon a time.
"Designated driver. Even if we had a DD, I don't know. I just don't feel like it. I can't exactly look out for Henley when I can't see straight."
Jake's expression changes to one of intrigue. It isn't a bad thing. It just isn't typical of them. She doesn't think he's ever looked at her quite like this before. "You're different. It's cool."
Lauren meets his stare and finds respect in his eyes.
"Anddd you're still trying to get me to sleep with you." Lauren pokes him hard right in the middle of his chest and Jake falls back a step with another laugh.
"What can I say, LT? When you got the charm you can't help, but be charming."
Before Lauren can tell him how full of himself he is, someone bumps her from behind. She turns and sees a gorgeous drunk girl in a ΘKK tank top, a cowboy hat and matching boots. There's a beer in her hand, but luckily she catches herself before spilling any on Lauren. She mutters, "sorry, darling," with a Southern accent and keeps moving. Lauren rolls her eyes when she notices Jake checking out the girl's ass.
Lauren playfully scoffs. "Ugh, Theta Kappa Kappa girls. Sloppy. Sloppy. Sloppy."
Jake smirks. "More like hot. Hot. Hot."
Lauren bumps him with her shoulder and makes his smirk even wide. When her clutch vibrates, Lauren pulls out her iPhone and finds a photo of Razor. Lauren had taken it at the post-wedding party. His ears are bright red, but his hair is still perfect. His shirt is halfway off and he had two of his cherished plastic cups ("They're like the symbol of teenage debauchery!") suggestively placed on his chest. She smiles whenever she sees it.
Jake laughs. "No boy, huh?"
"Jealous Jake." Lauren slides her finger across the screen and presses her phone into her shoulder to muffle the noise. "I need to take this." Lauren nods to where Henley is trying to teach Darby the actual Gettysburg Address. "Watch her, Jake. If one of your ogre friends—"
Jake stomps hard against the scuffed floorboards and playfully salutes her. "Yes, ma'am."
Lauren gives him a shove with her palm flat against his chest just to show him she's serious. If this were a year ago, Jake would grab onto her and pull her close and work her with his smile. Instead, he gives her a nod and the respect never leaves his eyes. Even Jake can tell she outgrew the Boozer lifestyle and that's the second time Lauren fills with pride.
"Hello? Ray? Sorry. It's a little noisy."
"If you're busy it's cool."
"I always make time for you. Duh. What's up?" Lauren walks out to the back of the house that has a large wooden deck. The cold air feels good against her hot skin. Away from the chaos, she can finally breathe. "Ray, still there?"
Lauren can't tell if the weather or the dead air between them, but it makes her shiver.
"So we're really going to do this? We're going to act like things haven't been totally weird for the last week?"
"Razor, don't be ridiculous. I told you. Things have been crazy."
"Laurennn!" Henley sings with her newly acquired British accent. "We were talkin' 'bout you 'n Darby thinks you'll grow up 'n marry Jake 'n have unfairly attractive biracial babies, but then I was, like, no way José! My broseph's got dibs! I'm learning so many new words ta-night!"
Henley collides with Lauren and wraps her arms around the blonde in an embrace much too loving for Henley's usual demeanor. Lauren moves the phone away, about to hiss, "shut up," when she hears Razor's confused voice.
"Henley?"
"S'at my brother?" With unnatural, unexpected strength, Henley wrestles the phone away from Lauren and stumbles away from the blonde. "Ray, Boulder is so much fun! Forget Harvard law! I want to come to CU Boulder and major in Beer Pong! And! And! Colorado Barbie is here and she's great, so great. I mean, she isn't Jody, but I definitely approve!"
"Henley, give me the phone back!" Lauren yanks it away before chants of "Posh! Posh! Posh!" come from the open sliding door, coaxing Henley back to the beer pong table. Once her social experiment gone drunk is nowhere in sight, Lauren takes a deep breath. "Ray?"
"Was that my sister?"
"Yes?"
"Is she drunk?"
"Maybe?"
"What is going on, Lauren?"
She literally smacks her palm against her forehead, looking from side to side, searching for an easy fix, but all she finds is darkness.
…
Payson has come to learn that there are certain steps you take when dealing with Kelly Parker and her uncontrollable, all consuming rage.
Step one: do nothing.
"Do nothing?" Austin asks. Payson nods with certainty. "Keeler, I'm pretty sure your best friend is in the middle of a complete psychotic episo—"
A loud, high-pitch growl bounces off the walls of the room Payson and Kelly are sharing in Florida. Payson sits on the corner of her bed, leaning back on her palms while Austin is beside her. Across the room, Kelly sits at a round table with the phonebook. The TV is on, but it might as well be on mute because the sounds of an angry Kelly Parker drown it out. When she sees Austin looking at Kelly like she's a bearded woman at the circus, she smacks him.
"Quit staring at her."
"Payson, how can you not? She's freaking out."
It's true. Payson's features soften with both sympathy and concern. Kelly's face is a mask of pure, raw anger. She doesn't once glance at her two-person audience. Kelly claws at the phonebook, tearing pages out, crumpling and shredding, letting the tiny pieces rain down and cover the floor of their hotel room. The imagery reminds them both of a hotel room in Texas.
"So, how did all your Kobalt promos go?"
Trying to follow Payson's casual lead, Austin gives his girlfriend an easy smile. "Nailed it. Per usual. And your lips are still the last lips I've kissed."
Payson tries to play it coo, but she can't deny that it makes her feel good to know that. Smiling, Payson leans in and gives him a quick kiss.
"What about you girls?"
"Still Payson Keeler, Gymnastics Sweetheart." Payson gives him the biggest, most innocent smile she can and it reminds her of how sore her cheeks are for having to smile for interviews. Payson's eyes skirt across the room. "What about you? Gymnastics Bad Girl?"
Kelly makes no indication that she heard the question or that she even realizes other people are in the room. She just angrily tears through more pages, muttering beneath her breath.
"As Faith would say, Kelly killed it, which isn't surprising. Kelly's always been good with the press, even when we were kids." Payson remembers how the cameras and interviewers would beeline for Kelly after she took Junior Nationals and how Kelly always knew how to act.
"So am I allowed to ask why she's mutilating the phonebook?"
"Touchy subject. I've already tried, which I now know isn't helpful. You can't skip steps," Payson says. "We're lucky she didn't explode right in the middle of dinner and managed to hold it together. Right now, all she wants to do is not talk about it and take her anger out on something that won't involve property damage fees or hospital visits."
Austin nods. "Good call."
Payson turns over and casts Kelly another look. "Hey, you better pace yourself! Once you run out of pages, I am not letting you rip up the Bible, Kelly Parker!"
"We might need it for the exorcism," Austin murmurs, only loud enough for Payson to hear. Payson playfully pushes him and Austin smirks, grabbing her hand and tracing the bumps of her knuckles with his finger.
"Be nice, Tucker," Payson says. "We don't know what it's about so hold the judgment."
"Fair enough. It does look like it's helping her. Sorta." Austin squints at Kelly. She remains in a state of perpetual rage with paper flying everywhere. "Maybe when I get back to my room I'll go a few rounds in the ring with the phonebook in there."
Payson slowly stretches her back and turns onto her side, facing Austin. "I've been meaning to ask about that. Lately, it's like you're always on your phone and not happy about it. Not to mention how stressed out you seem. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah."
She calls him out with narrowed eyes and a tense bottom lip. Austin lies on his side, angled towards her, with his face propped up on his hand. "Things are a little Rocky at home and it's a little frustrating to play referee through the phone. Kelly and Faith like to rip paper when they're upset? Ava, she has a different way of expressing herself."
"Ava. Your sister?"
Austin nods. "Don't get me wrong, my parents are great, but they don't know what she needs. Can't blame them. Like hell I know what she needs. I don't even think Ava knows."
"Her big brother, maybe?"
Austin smiles, entwining their fingers. "How do you do this?"
"Do what?"
"Just slow everything down for me. When I'm with you, it gets easier to push everything else away and just be with you. It's fucking awesome." He leans in until his nose grazes hers and Payson's face crinkles in delight. "And I'm sorry if I've been an ass lately, or, well, a bigger ass than usual. I guess I have a different way of expression too. Tuckerian."
Payson laughs. "Nu-uh. No. It doesn't have the same ring as Faithism."
"Yeah, I figured once I said it."
Her fingers trail along the leather sleeves of his jacket that he insists on wearing despite how it's nearly eighty degrees out. When he leans in to kiss her it's with such certainty and she kisses him back to show how she trusts him. Payson runs her fingers through his hair, just above his ear, but a moment later, she pulls away, almost startled. All of Austin's confidence falls away and is replayed with confusion. Payson digs her hand into the pocket of her sweater and pulls out a Blackberry. It isn't hers. It's Kelly's.
Payson answers it. "Hello. Kelly Parker's phone. Please hold."
The sound of paper being torn to bits ceases and Kelly hones in on her blonde friend. She marches across the room within seconds and Payson reacts quickly, standing from the foot of her bed and holding the phone high above both their heads.
"Keeler, give me my phone!"
"No. You told me not to let you handle your phone because you might end up breaking it," Payson says. "Remember when Marty called to check in with you? We made a deal, Kelly. I buffer your calls so it doesn't end up in pieces."
"Payson!"
"Who do you want it to be?"
"Nick," she answers. Then glares at Austin. "Don't even start, Tucker. I'll even take Faith."
Payson looks at the screen and presses it back into her shoulder. "It says Smoke Monster?"
"Hang up. Do it!"
Payson presses the phone to her ear and quickly rattles off. "Sorry. Kelly Parker is unavailable at the moment. If you'd like to leave a message—"
Before Payson can finish, Kelly pries the phone away. Once it's in her possession, Kelly shouts into the receiver. "Stop trying to talk to me!"
After pressing the end button as hard as humanly possible, Kelly throws out her arms in frustration. Before the phone can slip, Payson manages to steal it back. Kelly clenches her fists and sets her eyes on a pillow, seizing it and using it to beat the edge of her bed.
"Why does she keep friggin' calling?" Kelly yells. More violent swinging, teeth gritting and growls follow. Unlike the movies, the pillow remains intact despite the beating it's taking. "Can she not friggin' take a hint? I don't want to talk to her!"
Just as Kelly swings the pillow, the edges slips and it goes flying, knocking the lamp off the nightstand. They all watch as it flops onto the bed instead of the ground. Kelly doesn't even care, just shoves the mangled phonebook clear off the table and starts kicking it.
"Sheesh," Austin says. "And she said I need anger management?"
Kelly takes a long, deep breath and finally collapses with her legs folded beneath her and paper all around.
"Step two. You wait for Kelly to want to talk to you," Payson tells Austin. She goes over and sits with Kelly on the floor. "Ready to talk about it?"
"Maybe." Kelly remains blank, so tired and zombie-like. "Tucker, get out."
"Alright, calm down. I can take a direct order." Austin leans over the side of the bed to kiss the side of Payson's face. "Call me before you go to sleep," he whispers into her hair. Payson turns and kisses him fully on the lips before letting him go. "And, hey, if I ever need a phonebook exterminator, you're the first on my list, KP."
Kelly is too exhausted to react. The girls are silent up until Austin shuts the door after him. Payson picks at a piece of paper and examines it to keep from staring at Kelly. "You're lucky maid service is complimentary. We should probably tip."
"I don't know if I can tell you yet," Kelly says. "I need to tell someone, but…"
Payson nods. "You'd rather Nicky or Faith. I get it."
"Nick, mostly because he was right there with me when everything…sucked."
A phone sounds, but this time it's Payson's. She silences the call. "Lauren again."
Kelly holds her hand out to Payson, who takes it and gets back to her feet. They shuffle through the bits of paper over to Payson's bed and sit against the headboard, side by side.
"You're upset because Lauren told Kaylie about Nick and me?"
"Yeah, but it's more than that. It's the way Lauren did it. If she told Kaylie because it was eating her up inside, My Conscience Made Me Do It type thing then, okay, I respect that. But I'm sure Lauren just wanted to one-up Kaylie in one of their fights. Are you upset about this?"
"I've got bigger things weighing on me right now. Nick will probably feel more of the backlash than me. I just think it's weird, you know? Your friends, who I don't even know, are all talking about something that was strictly between Nick and me and, I don't know, special or whatever. Your friends don't even know us and yet they're talking about it as easy as talking about something on TV or online. It's weird, but I guess we do it all the time."
"I'm sorry."
"Payson, don't apologize. You aren't the blabbermouth. Austin is so on my List."
Payson nods. Fair enough.
"So, does the death of the phonebook have anything to do with Sheila Buboyan? I saw you talking to her before dinner and assumed. Was she your manager at some point?"
"It's so much more complicated than that." Kelly sighs. "She's my mom."
Payson's eyes grow wipe just as Kelly's phone rings again. It rings three more times before Kelly smacks Payson's arm, prompting her to answer it. "I, uh, hi. Kelly Parker's phone…hey, Nicky." Kelly's face lights up in a way that makes Payson smile. She pays little attention to the implication. It just makes her happy to see Kelly pick herself up. "Kelly's right here."
She holds the phone out, but before Kelly can take it, Payson pulls away.
"Are you going to break it?"
"Keeler, shut up." Kelly reaches again. Denied again.
"You'll tell me after, right? About your…Smoke Monster?"
Kelly nods before Payson lets her have her phone back. "I'll take it out on the balcony."
"No. Stay. I need to get out of here for a bit anyways."
Payson makes her way to the door, still trying to digest what Kelly told her. Kelly never talks about her parents and Payson is starting to see why. When the elevator doors swoop open, there is a horde of reporters and photographers in the lobby when their hotel is supposed to be a media free zone. It isn't surprising that Flex Jordan is at the center of all the commotion.
"Flex! Is it true that once Conrad Cooper announced his retirement, you started celebrating?"
"You bet I did. In style, too." Flex winks at the reporters. "Don't get me wrong. That ain't vanity neither. That's the straight up truth. Unless you're a tiger shark or a pack a piranha, there's no way you're taking down Flex Jordan." When he spots her staring, Flex walks right over to Payson and throws his arm around her. "Look! It's my pal, Payson Keeler. By this time tomorrow, her and me are gone be reppin' our fine country, matching gold, baby."
Payson forces on a smile. She doesn't know when exactly it became a reflex. Once the reports get chased out of the lobby by hotel security, Payson sneaks out from under Flex's hold.
"What was that all about?" she asks.
Flex smiles. "I've got a proposition, sweetheart."
…
Authors' Note: So, this update wasn't planned, but you have been so patient and great and honest with us so we thought we should keep you updated on what's going on. Life happens. We aren't exactly hermits. The moment we started getting excited about writing #WeFaB again, we checked our e-mail today and got the biggest motherfucking slap in the face.
Life, Love and Denim, Do I Dare Disturb the Universe, and I Have Faith have been deleted by FF without warning. Apparently, they're cracking down on their rules, doing a mass purge of stories and since we use "inappropriate language" in the summaries, they've been taken down and our account was suspended for a bit. All our hard work, time, effort, blood, sweat, tears, sleeplessly summer nights, AND all of your thoughtful, lovely reviews are gone forever. No warning; just e-mail notifications after the fact.
We are devastated and don't know where to go from here. We're considering uploading what we can salvage somewhere else, moving all of our stories somewhere else and continuing there. It isn't fair to you, we know, but we're fucking hurting right now and there's nothing to do but feel it.
Suggestions are welcomed. Definitely tell us what you thought about this chapter. As for the future, we aren't sure. What we do know is that we need some time to be angry and to grieve and figure things out. We gave years of our lives to this site and we got fucked over in return. We hope you understand. This place we're in right now, our universe wiped out completely, to be frank, fucking sucks. Being blindsided like this fucking sucks! Censorship fucking sucks! Ugh. So this is the state of things. Yes, it fucking sucks.
Review.
P.S. If you reported us, man up, PM us and own up to it. We deserve that much.
#LLDFOREVER #sadface