14. JAMES HALE

AUTHOR: dalekchung

They were a strange, eclectic bunch, James thought, scanning the occupants of the room suspiciously. It was hard to fathom how all these people were merely connected through a single teenage boy. That begged the question: how did Alex know these people? James could understand if they were all family, but Alex didn't have any family left, nor did he share any resemblance with the four muscular goons in the corner or the strangely stiff woman eyeing her drink suspiciously. They all knew Alex, that was for sure. Certain people looked at him like—James had difficulty articulating exactly what he thought—he was some sort of savior or something equally as ridiculous. Others looked at him, eyes shining with respect. It was very odd, James mused. He didn't like odd. He didn't like mysteries. James was going to get to the bottom of this.

"Tom," James stopped his friend. He wore a determined look on his face, striding forth, eyes fixed on a person. James nearly choked when he realized it was another teenage boy chatting animatedly with Sabina Pleasure, Alex's girl. He had only ever seen the awkward, blurry pictures that Alex took.

"What?" Tom's attention swiveled onto James. He winced at the annoyance coating his voice. At this, Tom softened. Apologetic, he offered, "Sorry, I was just looking forward to hearing the rest of James-Number-Two's story."

James took another peek at the boy, who was now staring intently at the two of them. It was a little unnerving, and James awkwardly inched back.

"Did you need something?" Tom prompted him, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

"Yeah," James gave the guests another sweeping look before diving into the heart of the matter. "Who are these people? How does Alex know them?"

Tom shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then back again. Guilt flitted across his face, so quickly that James wasn't sure if he had imagined it, "I have no clue. I just found them on Alex's Facebook. Why don't you ask Alex yourself?"

Alarmed, James shook his head, "No way! You know how Alex is. He'll just get angry that we've been digging into his personal life."

Tom shrugged, "Then talk to everyone. I'm sure they know a lot more than either of us do."

James stared intently as another flash of guilt crossed Tom's face. His shifty body language wasn't doing much to help him either. Tom was most definitely hiding something. He gave his friend a small smile, relenting with a, "Sure, I'll do that."

Tom flashed a smile back and waved a goodbye as he dodged a large man waddling by, rubbing his hands and chuckling softly to himself. Right. Not foreboding at all. James shook his head and watched as Tom tucked himself next to James-Number-Two, an easy grin on his face.

There wasn't much harm in trying to interact with the guests, James supposed. It wasn't like they would ever see each other again. He wrinkled his nose at the mere mental suggestion that he would ever spend his free time hanging around—he glanced around the room, eyes landing on a middle-aged man who spoke with a definitive American accent—brutes. James tore his eyes away from the man and in the opposite direction, towards the solitary female examining her nails. She was pretty, but James could instantly tell from the way her lips curled in an unfriendly scowl that she wasn't going to be much help. She paused in examining her nails, as if she felt his eyes on her. She assessed him for a brief moment, scrutinizing him first from his shoes and up, then turned away with a sneer, nose upturned. James decided that he didn't like her.

Instead, he swiveled towards the opposite side of the room, where four well-muscled men hungrily tore into their food, ribbing each other good naturedly. They didn't seem unfriendly, like the girl that was currently scoffing at the rest of the guests, but—James eyed their biceps—it probably wasn't a good idea to get onto their bad sides.

The four men looked up as he approached, sending him polite smiles tinged with an all too familiar expression of 'what the hell does this midget want'. James mustered up his most brilliant smile, "Hi, you must be Alex's friends! I'm James."

"Friends would be a stretch," one of the men shrugged as another, the shortest of the group, asked, "Another James?"

"I'm Wolf, by the way," the previous man held out his hand after an awkward pause. James took it, eyes bulging as the man basically cracked his knuckles for him. "We met little Double-O-Nothing a while back, when he came to…"

Wolf stopped abruptly as the man next to him elbowed him in the ribs. The four men peered at James curiously, with the same, creepy stare that James couldn't help but compare it to a horror movie. He nearly took a couple paces back, but he squared his shoulders, determination to oppose these large sacks of muscle, burning through him, "Went where?"

In unison, the men glanced over at the strict woman in grey. James turned to look at her too. The American was smiling almost tenderly at the woman and the woman reciprocating the action with a subtle batting of her lashes. Ugh, James sincerely hoped they wouldn't start making out. No one needed to see that.

"Uh, it was a long time ago," Wolf said casually, the smile dropping from his face. "Oh, look who it is!" He brushed past James, the rest of the crew following in suit after giving polite nods towards him. They joined a huge—James berated himself mentally at his subconscious judgement—man, whose laugh filled up the room and whose grin was just a touch too wide.

Alone, James frowned. They were hiding something from him, all right—just like Tom was. But what?

Looking around the room once more, he noted that Tom and Sabina had detached themselves from 'James-Number-Two' and instead, were talking with Jack. Perfect. James had to hold himself back so it wouldn't look like he was racing towards the boy.

"Hello!" James greeted cheerfully, plopping down on the couch, next to James-Number-Two.

"Hi," the boy replied, swirling his drink in the glass with one hand. James raised an eyebrow. Was that champagne? "Are you a damsel-in-distress as well?"

James spluttered on the air he was breathing, "Excuse me?"

The other James tilted his head, confused, "So you aren't?"

"No! Of course not. Why would I be a bloody damsel?"

The other James stared at him blankly, like James was the one being stupid, "Well, 'cause Alex saves everybody." The unspoken duh lingered in the air between them.

"What does that mean?" James asked, careful not to put too much eager curiosity in his voice.

But James-Number-Two's attention had wandered off. James followed his line of vision and nearly gagged. It was one thing to see girls fawning over his best mate. It was another thing to see a stranger admiring Tom's ass.

"I'm James," the boy was suddenly engaged in the conversation once more, grinning at him. "James Sprintz. Tom mentioned you were James-Number-Two?"

"Number two?" James squawked. He glared at the black-haired teen, gesturing animatedly as he shouted, "Tom, you complete arse! I'm James-Number-One!" He got a nonchalant handwave and a grin back from the teen. He turned back to Sprintz, "James Hale."

"Hale," Sprintz mused, taking a sip of his drink. "So, I was wondering—what's your friend Tom's type?"

James stared at the teen.

"For a friend, of course!" Sprintz said hastily, his face turning an unhealthy shade of red. "I have a friend who's really sad and lonely and single… and stuff. If Tom is free, he—I mean she!—would be extremely ecstatic—er, interested."

A beat.

"Are you for real?" James moaned, his face flaming. Sprintz's earnest expression told him that he was. "Oh fine—yes, he's single! And that's all I'm telling you!" James stood and huffed his way away. "Teenagers these days!"

"Tell me about it," a flat voice responded, quite suddenly out of nowhere. James jumped, biting back the shout that had come to his lips, unbidden. It was the woman he had noticed earlier, and she was a hard woman to forget. Really, the blank expression she wore made it look like she was prepared to give a eulogy.

"I'm James," James said as a way of a greeting.

"I know," the woman's lips were pulled into a smirk that seemed nearly mischievous in nature. She didn't offer a name back, but instead pulled out a peppermint from a pocket. "I heard you were asking around about how Alex knows all of us."

Numbly, James nodded.

"Well, perhaps I can enlighten you," the woman said around her peppermint. "As you may know, Alex's uncle worked for a bank." A nod, "Ian and I worked together. When Alex came to settle Ian's accounts, he found a family in us." She gestured vaguely at Wolf and the goons, who were marveling over the gifts that Old Saint Nick had bestowed on them.

"That makes sense, I guess," James said, though it made absolutely no sense at all. Who the hell went to a bank to settle his dead uncle's accounts, then decided it would be a grand old time to hang around with his coworkers? Then again, Alex had always been an odd apple.

His eyes cut back to Sprintz, "What about them, then? That Sprintz mentioned something strange…"

The woman smiled mysteriously, something that James really was getting fed up with, "Yes, young Mr. Sprintz also asked me the same question." James studied her, suspicious. He didn't recall the two of them interacting. But then again, he had been late. "Apparently, Alex has quite the complex for saving people. Mr. Sprintz was lost, you see—he was visiting some relative or another. Alex saw that and decided to lend a hand. I'm sure the other stories are something similar. Your friend is a selfless one."

Admittedly, that did sound like something Alex would do. James relented in his suspicious expression, which involved him frowning heavily and knitting his eyebrows together.

The woman gave him another smile, this time more mischievous in nature, "But, Mr. Hale," James gave a little jerk at the use of his last name. "You shouldn't dig around in Alex's secrets. They're…" the woman paused, a dangerous glint entering her steely eyes, "classified."

She left him there, pondering over her words.

"You all right, there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," James' voice trailed off as he turned to his fair-haired friend. "No, actually. Your friend was saying something strange."

"Which one?" Alex helped himself to a bowl of crisps, avoiding James' eyes.

"The woman in the grey. Likes peppermints?" James gestured discreetly.

Alex turned calculating eyes onto him. He raised an eyebrow, "What did she say?" He tossed a crisp into his mouth.

"Something about your secrets?" James proceeded carefully.

"Don't have any," Alex muttered—the biggest lie James had ever heard.

James shrugged nonchalantly, "Well, she mentioned something curious."

Alex said nothing as he continued to munch on his food.

"She told me they were 'classified.' Does that mean anything to you?" James reached for a crisp, schooling his features into a mask of indifference.

Alex choked.