Disclaimer: Dylan is the product of my own delusions. His feathered friends are a product of Disney's.
– The New Standard of Masculine Perfection –
– II. Adagio –
Wednesday, June 27th, 2007
10:43 AM
Want to know a secret?
Last night, I was suffering from a major case of jetlag and couldn't sleep.
So I made out with Maddie's roommate.
Her name is Lucia and she's from Rome.
Bam!
I also did it while Maddie was sleeping in the other bed.
Double whammy!
2:12 PM
Have tried to get some time alone with Maggot.
Seems impossible.
Why?
Because Dmitri the Damned is everywhere.
4:38 PM
Realized he's keeping an eye on me.
Who the bloody Hell does he think he is?
He's the usurper!
Asshole.
7:17 PM
Confronted her about situation.
They've hooked up.
Twice.
She's sleeping on the floor tonight.
Appalled.
Thursday, June 28th, 2007
9:34 AM
Maddie has rehearsal.
God damn, the girl's gotten ridiculously good.
She's killing it up there.
Guess she's been doing something productive with her life while I…what exactly have I been doing?
Oh yeah.
Drinking, wenching, and other forms of debaucher-izing.
10:04 AM
Ew, it's Dmitri the Dimwit.
With his stupid, perfect pirouettes and stupid, perfect hair.
Narcissistic pig.
11:30 AM
The girls here are quite attractive.
And they all want to know about Maddie's American friend.
That would be me.
Smug.
1:17 PM
Met Maddie's teachers.
They adore her.
Naturally.
She is my girl.
7:29 PM
We're going out for dinner.
Would be better if Dmitri the Douche didn't insist on accompanying.
I think he's more annoying than Banks.
Didn't think that was possible.
Confused.
10:02 PM
Have dubbed him the Russian Concussion.
And I officially despise him.
Friday, June 29th, 2007
1:16 PM
Have less than two days with Maggot.
She was mine first and I don't share.
The Russian Concussion has got to go.
4:25 PM
Hand might have accidentally slipped eye drops into his soup.
Whoops.
He's going to need a lot of toilet paper.
10:44 PM
Clubs are loud.
Maddie's classmates are eyeing me.
She's just told them that I'm a nationally ranked athlete.
Too bad I only have time for one girl right now.
And besides…I've already gotten with two of them.
11:28 PM
Maggot's absolutely and adorably smashed off her ass.
And I'm well on my way.
See how much fun we can have when the Russian Concussion is out of the picture?
12:13 AM
Wants to know what's been happening in Minnesota.
She hasn't heard anything since she last talked to Banks.
Since when has she been talking to him?
Suspicious.
12: 22 AM
He Skypes her when time permits.
She's absolutely glowing while talking about Buttface Banks.
Becoming horrified.
12:28 AM
Asked her if she may have a tiny, insignificant crush on him.
12:31 AM
She may have a tiny, insignificant crush on him.
She's drunk. And delirious.
That answer doesn't count.
Please don't let it count.
Saturday, June 30th, 2007
10:24 AM
Maddie's hogging the bed.
I need more room.
Shoved her off.
Would you believe she slept through that as well?
12:08 PM
Last night's events have come into clear focus, along with my coffee.
Ready to slap her to her senses if her answer is the same as last night.
Because it's all for her own good, you know.
12:13 PM
She said no.
Thank God.
There will be no Banks/Maggot progenies running around stark naked in my mind anymore.
Relieved.
1:11 PM
Maggot has taken me shopping.
The things I do for this girl.
She accidentally sorted her pants into my pile of clothes.
1:12 PM
Apparently, those pants are meant for me to try on.
Unsure.
1:18 PM
My balls are being crushed to an inch of their lives.
I don't think I can walk.
1:26 PM
Maddie thinks they look nice.
And with one swipe of that overused little platinum card of hers, I own a pair of skinny jeans.
I'm so embarrassed.
1:28 PM
Apparently, the Russian Concussion has a pair just like these.
My ego is not soothed.
6:42 PM
It's our last dinner together.
I leave for Sydney tomorrow.
She wants to know what I've been up to for the last month.
This will be pure shiatsu.
"I don't understand."
"What's there to understand?"
She leaned forward, her pretty face accentuated by the candlelight. "You mean to tell me that you've spent practically the last month swilling cheap beer and fornicating?"
"Well, if you're going to put it like that."
"I just don't get it. Why would you even want to do that?"
"Because I'm a hedonist." Dylan paused for a second, before shrugging. "Whatever."
"Oh that's just the kind of attitude I'm looking for." His best friend tossed her head scornfully. "Next thing you know, you'll be telling me you've been fighting again!"
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"Dylan!"
"They started it!"
"You promised you wouldn't fight anymore!"
Taking a bite of his steak, he looked at her earnestly. "I am but a weed in God's great garden of life. You are a rose. I must exist to show how lovely and perfect you are. Together, we provide balance."
"Oh, enough with the metaphorical bullshit!" Maddie threw her napkin down on the table and crossed her arms huffily.
"We're in public, Maggot…" He sang, knowing full well how irritating he was being. It was one of his many skills.
"Bite me! They don't even understand what we're saying."
Dylan poked at his food. "How're your vegetables? My steak's a little funky."
She scowled at him. "Don't change the subject. Connie actually let you get away with your behavior? Adam let you get away with that behavior?"
"I don't want to talk about Banks with you! And, of course she didn't. She made me do menial labor for a couple days."
"Good, I hope you suffered, you great pig."
"Whoa there, easy with the name calling, babe. It was pretty bad at first, I dropped plates and mixed up orders…oh and then Stinkypoo! He's in a category all by himself, the gross little thing. He wanted to get with Connie. God only knows why-"
Maddie blinked. "Wait. You were a waiter? That's your idea of menial labor? A damn waiter?"
"If you can even call it that. I was everyone's bitch." He sniffed, barely listening to her. "The other waitress was pretty cute, though. I got her number but Connie confiscated-"
"You are unbelievable, you know that? Y-you-you…huge slut!"
"Says the girl who's been sucking face with the Russian Concussion." He shuddered distastefully, before leaning towards her, his silver eyes sparkling. "Think about it this way, Maggot, darling. I'm basically going to soccer boot camp for the next six to eight weeks. Just me and seventeen other guys, night and day. I needed to get all of this debauchery out of my system. You know, to serve as a buffer against the Hell I will be going through."
"Dylan Thomas Howard, you are the biggest, most delusional liar I have ever met."
7:23 PM
That went moderately well.
Not.
Sunday, July 1st, 2007
6:04 AM
So…it's six in the morning.
And I'm awake.
You ask why, my dear friend?
Well, I'm deciding what to do with my life.
And I'm at a complete impasse.
7:59 AM
So I've come to three options.
One: Keep on doing what I've been doing, not get caught and deal with the Russian Concussion.
Two: Deal with the Russian Concussion, then renounce debauchery and become a model American citizen.
Three: Deal with the Russian Concussion and then try not to get into any more trouble.
The more I think about it, Option Two is out of the question.
Option Three it is.
9:37 AM
I can't find any of my shit!
And I have to be at the airport in an hour.
If I can't find my other pair of jeans, I'll have to wear the skinny jeans to Sydney.
9:53 AM
I'm not arriving at an internationally televised event wearing skinny jeans!
And now Maggot can't find her underwear.
UOGHALKDNSAGBJLKAD!!
10:05 AM
The whole hallway's watching the two crazy Americans run around.
Am I embarrassed?
Not as much as I would be showing up to meet my future teammates wearing skinny jeans!
10:08 AM
Found them!
They were behind Lucia's bed.
Awkward.
10:11 AM
Maggot can't find her bra.
I don't see why she needs one.
It's not like she has much to hold up.
10:49 AM
We made it.
I'm not going to miss my flight.
Relieved.
10:51 AM
The Russian Concussion needs to be dealt with.
Showtime.
"Stop looking like your dog died. It'll just give the Concussion reason to try to fondle you."
"Don't worry, I won't let him. I miss Willy." She sighed forlornly, gazing up at him with big, sad eyes. "How's he doing?"
Letting out a dainty sniff at the mention of her beast of a Rottweiler, Dylan shoved his boarding pass into his back pocket and picked up his carryon bag. "Terrorizing everyone as usual. For some reason, he kind of likes Mom, though." He then caught a glimpse of a hated face in the background. "Maddie, darling, why don't you go to the bathroom?"
She blinked. "But I don't need to-"
"Yes, you do. Now run along." With that, he shoved her in the general direction of the restrooms and watched the Russian boy walk towards him with narrowed eyes. "Dmitri."
"Dylan." Unfortunately, even with his accent, the other spoke perfect English. "This was a…interesting visit. Good luck with your…what was it that you played again?"
"Soccer. Or football, to you Europeans." He answered easily, although his steel grey eyes were as cold as ice. "Yeah, this was a very interesting visit. Nice to see Maddie's made some…friends."
Dmitri pursed his lips and gazed at the soccer player. "What exactly is the nature of your association with Madison?"
And that was the exact opening he had been looking for. Dylan barely kept from outright sneering at him. "You mean, Maddie, right?Cause the only time anyone calls her Madison, is when she's in a shitload of trouble."
"I feel that Madison is more dignified. Maddie is too common a name."
"Funny. I don't think there's anything common about her. Anyway, Maggot's my baby girl. My partner in crime. My little darling. The Bonnie to my Clyde. Get it?"
"No." The dancer's tone was flat. "I don't think Madison was very clear about the nature of our relationship. I feel that it is in our best interests to clear that up."
"That's wonderful. I was thinking the same thing."
Dmitri smiled. "Wonderful. As long-"
"I'm glad you're stepping down, man. I know it's hard to take in but you've got to accept reality, you know?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Maddie will date a trashy bastard like yourself over my dead body, you understand?" Dylan glared at him, all pretenses of a cordial relationship dropped. "Maggot understands how I feel and as I'm more important to her than you, she's going to be giving you the cold shoulder from now on."
"You've got a lot of nerve-"
"Listen, you pretentious dick," he snarled, his face an inch away from the other boy's. "I'm not going to lie, I'm scum. But scum can always pick out fellow scum. And I know that you're complete trash. You don't deserve her so back the fuck off!"
The Russian looked quite indignant. "I'll have you know that my family is practically nobility-"
"Oh, lah dee dah! Don't even think about bringing family into this because my Scotch ass will shit on yours! I repeat, back the fuck off because you don't deserve her!" Dylan felt the blood of Highlanders flowing through his veins and saw sudden flashes of tartan before his eyes.
"And I suppose you do?"
"Oh, ew!" The soccer player shuddered. "That's like incest. But you raise an interesting point. Maggot is too good for your flat ass. She deserves a good, old-fashioned Midwestern boy, who votes and plays soccer and recycles and is an upstanding American citizen…like Logan Spelling." He finished decisively before fixing the other boy with a sneer. "Face it, Dmitri, you've got no chance."
"You are amusing, Dylan." The Russian's tone spoke volumes. "But I believe it is her choice, no?"
"Yeah, right. Like she has choices." Dylan snorted, shaking his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes. God damn it, why did the Concussion have to be so damn tall? It made him feel inferior! "Besides, you're not her type. She likes them tall, dark and handsome. You only fit one of the criteria."
"That mouth of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble one of these-"
Maddie chose to return at that moment. "I really don't see what the point of…what's going on?"
"Nothing." Dylan gave the Dmitri one last sneer before turning to his best friend. "We were just talking. Walk me to security?"
"Yeah, sure." Glancing at the fuming Russian curiously, she trotted towards her friend. "What'd you guys talk about?"
"Nothing. Hey, do you think you could swing down to Sydney after this thing's done? Maybe catch a couple of my games?"
"Probably not." She sighed, her face an abject mask of misery. "I think I end around the same time as you guys, if not later."
"Oh." The corners of his mouth tugging down, Dylan stopped at the checkpoint and turned to face her. "Well then. This is it. See you in September…I guess."
Suddenly, with a muffled wail, Maddie threw herself into her best friend's arms. "It's not fair!" She started to bawl. "You're leaving me all by myself while everyone else is in Sydney! I'm going to spend my birthday alone while all of you are together!"
"Hey, hey. Easy there with the salt water." Dylan smoothed her hair as she continued to sob into his shirt. "It'll be okay. You'll have fun here and then go back to New York and party it up with those private school socialites you're friends with."
"Were." She hiccupped, pulling back to look at him with big, miserable eyes. "They don't talk to me anymore. The Ducks are all I have now, Dylan. Them and you. You're my only friends." She let out one last sniffle before straightening and smiling. "I'm being all silly, keeping you like this. You're going to miss your flight. You should get going."
Furrowing his brow, Dylan stared at her, his grey eyes going right through her cheerful façade. "You going to be okay?"
"Yeah!" Maddie beamed at him tearfully. "I'll be fine. I just miss all of you…a lot. Don't worry about me, concentrate on soccer." She absently reached out to fix his collar as her lower lip started to tremble again. "Work hard and make me proud, Dylan. Don't let me down."
A rather unknown feeling started to swirl around in his body. Was it…could it be…shame? He swallowed and managed to croak out an answer. "I will. I promise."
"I'm holding you to that. Now go get 'em, tiger." Her grin stood in sharp contradiction to the tears that openly ran down her face. "Tell the girls that I love them. And tell Charlie to take it easy, he'll probably be throwing a fit by the second period. Oh! And tell Averman that I bought him these really sweet new glasses off the black market. And tell Banks-"
The shame and melancholy that had previously engulfed his psyche immediately evaporated. "Why do I have to tell Banks anything?" He whined, shaking his blond hair out of his eyes. "And what's with this whole Me-and-Banks-total-BFFs thing you got going on recently?"
And he was back to his dear, old, petty self.
"What about it?"
"It's weird!"
"How is that weird?"
"He wears sweater vests!"
She rolled her eyes. "You know what, never mind. You're really going to miss your flight if you don't hurry." She reached up to give him a kiss. "I love you. Listen to Connie. Try not to antagonize Julie. And don't flush when she's in the shower, it's really annoying."
He wrapped his arms tightly around her in one last hug. "She likes it." He hesitated before barging on. "I told Dmitri to back off! If you really like him then whatever but I think he's a prick and he's no good for you but I guess it's up to you in the end even though you really suck at making decisions and I'm smarter than you in stuff like this…"
Blinking, Maddie tried to comprehend the run-on sentence that had just been thrown at her. She then gave him a halfhearted grin. "We've had this discussion. There's nothing going on, don't worry."
"I know. I'll be seeing you soon." Beaming, Dylan brushed a kiss onto her forehead and resolutely walked to the scanners. That was his girl, alright.
As he got in line, he took a look back over his shoulder. Maddie stood there morosely as a smug Dmitri walked over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Shaking his head, the soccer player placed his shoes and laptop into a tray on the conveyer belt.
Then, as he was about to go through the sensor, Dylan smirked. Swiftly turning around, he hollered to his girl. "Yo, Maggot! Who's your daddy?"
She let out a teary sniffle but didn't bat a lash at the odd question. "You are."
Beat that, Dylan sniffed daintily as he cheekily blew a kiss to a scowling Dmitri.
Sunday, July 1st, 2008
1:30 PM
Location: Sydney International Airport.
Atmosphere: Irritably sunny.
Purpose: To get through customs.
Likelihood of that happening: Dismal. I have no idea what anyone's saying.
1:37 PM
Likelihood of surviving the Aussie underworld: Much, much, much more bright.
Why you ask?
Because Julie Gaffney has just stepped off the escalator.
And…Portman is walking down the staircase to my immediate left.
Yikes.
Collision time: approximately six seconds.
"Dylan!"
"Jule-face! Thank God you're here!"
"What did you do-"
"Julie?"
"What-"
"Well, would you look at that, it's Portman!"
"…I can see…"
"Portman, buddy! How's the Windy City? Now-"
"It's good…hey, Jules."
"Hey-"
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah, um, I just saw Dylan here-"
"Hello? Jules?"
"Yeah, small world, right?"
"No kidding."
"Hello? Remember me?"
"How's your summer been?"
"Good, good. Yours?"
"Uh, guys?"
"Can't complain."
'Well-"
"Yeah, um-"
"Someone has to get me through customs!" The soccer player suddenly howled in frustration.
"I'll do it!" The two answered simultaneously.
Smiling a bit forcedly, Julie tucked a blond lock of hair behind her ear. "Don't worry about it. I got it under control." He has no right to look this good stepping off a 17-hour flight, she thought mutinously, eyeing his airy white T-shirt and crisp, stonewashed jeans. Dean Portman should have been a model for the Gap.
Running a hand through his newly cut hair, Portman nodded just as awkwardly. "A-alright. Um, I'm supposed to meet Ken. His flight lands in a couple of minutes. Gate 37, I think. So I guess I'll go…"
"Wait, why don't we just come with you – Owwww…or not." Dylan winced as Julie's strong fingers suddenly pinched a particularly tender patch of skin on his side. He smiled at the Chicago native weakly. "Go ahead. I'll see you soon."
"Yeah. Take care, man." Portman then turned to Julie and smiled slightly. "You look good, Gaffney. It's always been your best color. I'll see you at practice." And slipping on his aviators, he gave her one last smile and walked away.
He did not just say that. Why did he have to say that?
Unaware that her eyes were suddenly teary, she absently smoothed the front of her lavender floral sundress and stared at the retreating figure. "You know…you think you know a person and you're fine. You understand him. You understand what to expect from him. And then he comes out with something like that…and all your understanding…all your expectations are thrown out the window." She turned to look at the slightly bewildered soccer player. "Am I right?"
"Uh," Dylan smiled at her weakly. "That dress makes your tits look nice?"
The corner of her mouth gave a traitorous twitch. "Well, at least you're consistent." Laughing, she linked her arm in his. "Come on, let's get you through customs."
"Oh, thank you. I have no idea what they're saying-"
Nodding and laughing to her friend's whining, Julie nonetheless glanced towards the direction of Gate 37, wishing for one last glimpse of a tall, broad shouldered hockey player.
10:37 PM
So I met my teammates.
And I'm very close to hyperventilating.
I know half of them from various soccer camps.
And let's just say, I've become acquainted with their girlfriends, sisters, cousins, etc.
I'm fucked.
11:13 PM
My roommate: Jacob Matthew Riley
Thank goodness.
At least I won't be murdered in my sleep.
He thinks I'm being a paranoid nancy-boy.
We'll see who's the paranoid nancy-boy when Connie comes to visit and decks him one again.
Monday, July 9th, 2007
8:24 PM
This past week has been torture.
Wake up, train, eat, train, eat, train some more, shower, be interviewed, eat, sleep.
Yippee.
Not.
9:17 PM
Does everyone have a secret hero/be-all-that-you-can-be complex except me?
Owen was volunteering at an athletics camp for disabled children before he came here.
Brighton's just come back from a semester in Ghana, helping fight AIDs or what-not.
Johnson's future dream is to find the cure for AIDS.
Chang won this national essay competition. And he donated all his prize money to Amnesty International.
Walden is debating to take a year off from college and do Teach-for-America or something.
At least Riley's not the charitable type.
9:22 PM
Okay, so he is. Riley's just spent the last month volunteering in the hospital's lab.
You know what? I beat all of them.
I save orphans from burning buildings.
9:38 PM
Who am I kidding?
That doesn't count.
Wednesday, July 11th, 2007
12:04 PM
I saw Rivera and Nick just now.
She's cut her hair.
Like all of it. It's up to her chin now.
It looks good on her.
She kind of smiled at me. And held up a hand. She kind of smiled at me and held up a hand.
Christ.
He was a man with a mission. He was a man with a mission. He was a man with – oh, hello, Brazil.
The dark-haired beauty gave him a coy smile as she walked by, the Brazilian flag displayed proudly on her warm-up suit. An appreciative gleam in his eyes, Charlie Conway sought out the sport she was in. "I love gymnastics." He muttered, still following the figure.
He was then distracted by a flash of blonde hair. "Oh, crap! Carmen! Yo, Carmen! Wait a – ow!" The pavement was introduced to his face as his feet tangled around each other.
The blonde girl turned around with a harried smile. "Hey, Charlie. Hold on a second." She then frowned and put a finger on her headset. "I don't care if they're stalling! Strap them down and force it out of them! Hell, give them a bloody nose if you have to! If they don't take the drug test, they're not playing! And you can tell them that it's a promise! Now get on it!" She turned to the boy sprawled out on the sidewalk. "Sorry about that."
"It's cool." Wincing, Charlie gingerly got up. "You look scarily…corporate." His nose wrinkled at her power suit and headset. "Maybe it's the hair. You look like a classier cross between Posh Spice and Rihanna." He snickered as his hand went out to touch her new choppily layered bob.
Carmen smacked his hand away impatiently. "As lovely as your commentary is, I doubt your reason for coming to find me has to do with your views on my hair. What's up?"
Charlie blinked. Oh right. Man with a mission.
"Yeah," he quickly fumbled through his bag. "I don't like our uniform."
She stared at him.
"I mean, don't get me wrong. It's cool. Very chic. I guess. But it's not…us."
"It's not us." Carmen repeated, her eyes starting to glow a dangerous shade of amber. "I see. Does the rest of the team share your opinion?"
"W-well, I-I don't know. I'm pretty sure…that they do…" He trailed off as her eyes narrowed. You've gone and done it now, pretty boy, a voice inside of him snickered. "It's just…we're the Ducks, you know? And there's nothing about the Ducks on this. And I mean, I kind of understand about the color scheme but-"
"The color scheme." Carmen placed a tiny hand on her tiny waist. Charlie wasn't fooled. There was nothing tiny about the size of her temper. "Charlie…what country are you a citizen of?"
"The US-"
"What are the colors of the US flag?"
"Red, white and blue-"
"And don't you think that if you're representing your country in an international competition, you should wear your country's colors?"
"Well, I-I guess so-"
"So do you think the color scheme is pretty appropriate?" She practically snarled, poking him in the chest.
"Yes but-" Charlie smiled at her winsomely albeit tremulously, holding up the jersey. "Can't you humor me, Car? It's so…bare."
"Y-you-" She took a deep breath. "We were able to get some of the top designers in the US to design the uniforms. Michael Kors designed the jerseys for USA Hockey. Do you know who Michael Kors is?"
"No." His nose wrinkled. "But I bet it's something Banks would wear."
Carmen's eye suddenly twitched. "Charlie, Iceland refuses to take the drug test, the Italians are hitting on everything that moves, no one understands what the French are saying and Britain's coach has been puking for the past day and a half-"
"Oh yeah, that's my fault." Charlie shrugged apologetically and sought to explain. "Well, it was kind of an accident. I originally meant for-"
"Whatever you tell me can and will be used against you so shut up now." Carmen glared at him. "Remember how stressed I was back at school?"
"Who can forget?" He grinned in memory.
"I've just reached a new level of it."
Charlie looked skeptical. "Oh. Is that even possible?"
Just then, Carmen's walkie-talkie gave a crackle. "Miss Rivera, the coach of the US basketball team would like a word."
"What does he want? I'm not responsible for the basketball division!" She snapped into her headset before turning to face Charlie. "Goodbye."
He frowned. "Does that mean no to new jerseys? Carmen? Ow! You don't have to bloody throw stuff!"
– Three days later –
"Excuse me, I'm looking for a Mr. Charles Conway?"
Slipping a shirt over his head, Luis looked over at the speaker. "Oh, yeah. Hold on a sec. Ay, Charlie! Someone here to see you!"
Charlie walked out of the showers, a towel slung low around his hips and rubbing his damp hair with another towel. Completely shameless about his state of undress, he ambled over to the man. "I'm Charlie Conway."
The man held out a box. "Package for you, Mr. Conway. Just sign here, please."
"Yeah, thanks." He nodded at the postman before bringing the box over to his locker.
Adam looked up at him, comb in his hand. "Who's it from?"
"Doesn't say. Please don't part your hair, Banksie. It makes you look like a pedophile." Charlie muttered absently as he tore open the box. Taking out a note, he recognized Carmen's neat handwriting.
Conway,
I hope you know that you're an insufferable little brat. Have Connie iron them onto your sleeves.
-Carmen
Oh, and dinner at my place on the 13th. Take a bath before you show up.
His heart soaring, he peeked into the box. Picking up a patch, he beamed at the duck shaped hockey mask, complete with two crossed hockey sticks underneath it in a skull and crossbones motif. "Love you too, Car."
Friday, July 13th, 2007
3:39 PM
Connie and Julie came by while I was in the shower.
The team is quite enamored with them.
I know. Ew much?
Dinner tonight at Carmen's apartment. Figures it would be on Friday the 13th.
6:43 PM
Ghana Boy seems to find Connie absolutely breath-taking.
And Mr. Cure-for-AIDS wants to know who the Asian girl in all my photos is.
"Are all your friends this hot?"
Gag me.
Stepping inside the elevator, Ken Wu checked his watch. Crap, he was late.
He anxiously watched the numbers change as they ascended the luxury apartment building. Coach Bombay had really gone all out for Carmen. But then again…he had probably also saved a ridiculous amount of money by hiring her. God only knew that she was the equivalent of a four-person staff.
The bell tinged as a number 12 lit up.
Whistling slightly, he stepped down the hallway until he came to 12D and rang the doorbell. It opened almost immediately and a harassed looking Guy Germaine waved him in. "It's utter madness."
Ken blinked. "I can see."
Indeed, the chic apartment was fairly bursting with Team USA Hockey, their Director's PA, a rather morose looking soccer player, and a laughing little boy. Weaving past Charlie and Averman who were building a castle out of toothpicks and cheese cubes, he ran into a flash of blonde hair. "Jules!"
"Ken!" Her eyes lit up as she bounced over to him. "What happened? I thought you'd be here ages ago! And where's Portman and Fulton?"
"I got side-tracked by a cute little Australian. And they're still being side-tracked by two members of Germany's volleyball team. I don't think they're going to be able to make it." He grinned before noticing her face fell slightly at the news of Portman's disappearance. "You look as pretty as a picture. Give me a twirl, girlie!"
Laughing, Julie spun around so her yellow sundress flared out. "Why, thank you, Mr. Wu. You look pretty dashing yourself."
"I do try, ma'am." Ken grinned, before brandishing a bouquet of white lilies. "Now where's our hostess? I got her a little something."
"I'd better put them in water." The goalie smiled, jerking her head over to his left. "She and Banks are having a bit of a scuffle."
Following her gaze, Ken saw Carmen and Adam in the midst of an argument. The shapely blonde and Adam were at it neck and neck and neither looked ready to back down. He leaned in a bit closer to hear what was going on.
"-absolutely not!"
"Who do you think you are, telling me what I can or can not do? I don't even listen to my mother!"
"Your mother's insane."
"Obviously. However, you still don't have any authority over me!"
"You're underage!"
"We're in Australia and I'll be eighteen in a few months!"
"But you're underage as of this moment!"
She stamped her foot in fury. "You don't scare me, Banks!"
"And over my dead body are you bringing any into this place!"
"It's my apartment!"
"Carmen, I will take you over my knee and spank you right here and right now." Adam threatened, his blue eyes flashing. "Don't think that I won't!"
"Aargh!" She screamed in frustration, spinning on her heel and storming away.
The hockey player glared after her. "And change your dress! Did you let Averman pick it out again? You're practically spilling out of it."
"Banks, you can just-"
Ken blinked and resolutely blocked out the string of epithets that erupted from the girl's mouth. "What are they going on about, anyway?"
"Alcohol." Guy ambled over and handed him a Coke. "Carmen wanted alcohol – no, said she deserved alcohol after the week she's had – and Banks put his foot down. He seems to think she needs some sort of guidance in her life."
"Does he have a death wish?" Raising an eyebrow, Ken took a swig of his soft drink. "Where's our other girl?"
Guy made a face. "The kitchen. You can go see her. I'm not stepping near that place."
"What? Why?"
"Words can't even begin to describe. I'll be over there with Dwayne…where it's safe. Godspeed." Tipping his glass to the Asian boy, Guy walked away.
Feeling a bit apprehensive, Ken edged over to the kitchen and witnessed another full-fledged fight happening. Her fuchsia sheath dress carefully covered by a large apron, Connie waved a ladle threateningly in an equally livid looking Goldberg's face.
"-touch my vinegar!"
"What would you know? It'll obviously taste better with sesame oil!"
"Not with the frisée! Give me back my red wine!"
"Your taste buds are so bourgeois!"
"Says the boy making Bagel Bites!"
"It's bruschetta! It's Jarlsberg and bruschetta!"
"Oh please, it's the stuff of amateurs!"
"I hope you choke on your tagliarini!"
"They've been going at it for at least an hour now." Ken turned to see little Nick Hunt stare at the scene in slight bewilderment. "I really would prefer a hamburger but…" He shrugged before turning to the hockey player. "Would you like some cheese and crackers?"
Noticing the current argument had deteriorated into quite the lesson in profanity, Ken hastily steered the young boy away. "Yeah, that sounds great. How've you been, kiddo?"
"Great!" He answered enthusiastically, bouncing on the soles of his feet. "I met Andy Roddick a couple days ago! And Federer might be coming near the end of the Games! And Carmen lets me stay at the courts as long as I want-"
"Yo, Nicky boy! There you are, I was looking all over for you!" Charlie Conway picked up the child easily. "Sorry, Ken Doll, I'm going to need to borrow this one for a second. We need some more olive oil for our moat and there's no way I'm walking into the kitchen by myself."
"Knock yourself out, Charlie." Ken grinned and watched them go. Then turning back to the scene of chaos, he sighed in resignation at his plight. His eyes then landed on a solitary figure outside on the balcony. With a slight frown, he walked towards him.
The fresh, breezy air was a nice change from the chatter and jumble inside. Ken breathed deeply. "Nice night, isn't it?"
Dylan turned around. "Ken. What up, man? How've you been?" He smiled and clapped his hand.
"I've been okay. Training is brutal, isn't it?" The San Francisco native leaned against the railing and admired the magnificent view of Sydney in front of them. The Harbour Bridge provided a backdrop to the Sydney Opera House which was a vision in white against the night sky.
"Tell me about it." The soccer player sighed and looked out into the water. Ken watched him out of the corner of his eye. The blond seemed unusually quiet and…well, for a lack of a better word, depressed. He was still as handsome as ever but there was an overwhelming sense of melancholy surrounding him. He suddenly turned around. "What did you do before you came to Sydney?"
Ken blinked. "Nothing, really. I mean, I checked my stocks. Oh and I gave little kids figure skating lessons for a bit."
"Oh. That's cool. How much did you get paid?"
"Well…I didn't. I volunteered to do it. My way of giving back to the community, you know?"
Dylan's shoulders sagged. "Oh, of course."
"Yo, Howard, what's the mat-"
"There y'all are!" The two turned to see Dwayne step onto the balcony. "What are y'all doing out here? The party's inside."
"Hello, Dwayne." Dylan slumped onto the railing. "Maybe I should just jump." He mused bitterly, eyeing the drop.
The Texan's eyes widened. "Is he alright?" He whispered anxiously. "Maybe he got too much sun today."
"Dwayne!"
"Yes, sir!"
"What did you do this summer?" The blond's voice was almost desperate. "Before you came here?"
"Just lounged around the house, really. Helped Pa with the horses and uh…" He scratched his head. "Oh, Allie came to visit! I took her over to Morton Ranch, actually. One of the finest cattle ranches in the country! Anyway, Mr. Morton had a stroke so he ain't doin' too well and he's always been real good to our family. So I went over and helped out with the livestock and Allie pottered around in the kitchen. Old man Morton sure took a liking to her-"
"Whoa, back up. Back the fuck up." Dylan raised a hand in disbelief. "Allie? As in Allegra Howard? My cousin? She helped out on the ranch too? Free of charge?"
"Well, yeah. She was cooking for Mr. Morton night and day and not a single word of complaint!" Dwayne beamed, obviously proud of his girlfriend.
His mouth a haggard line, the soccer player stepped back from the railing. "Listen, guys. I got to go. Make my excuses, will you?"
"Dude, we haven't even had dinner! What's wrong?"
"I'm not feeling too well." Dylan ran a hand through his constantly tousled hair. "I'm sorry, man. Maybe some other time. Your game's on Tuesday, right?"
"Yeah but-"
"I'll be there. Have fun tonight."
The two boys stared at the retreating figure in disbelief. Dwayne turned to Ken, a worried gleam in his dark eyes. "He's going to be alright…isn't he?"
"I don't really know what just happened now." Ken admitted, shaking his empty soda can absently. "Come on, let's go inside. It's kind of cold."
Friday, July 13th, 2007
10:38 PM
Today, I came to the realization that I am a complete and utter stain on humanity.
And let me tell you…it's the worst feeling in the world.
I just realized it's been like half a year since I've updated! I'm so sorry! I hate it when writers do that to me and then I just realized that I'm one of them. In my defense, I've been sick and then my boyfriend almost got deported back to the UK. I don't even want to know how that happened.
Bear with me, guys, there's only one chapter left of this story so I'll try to finish this and GP before September!
And to those of you who continue to review and send me messages, thank you. A huge, huge thank you and an even bigger hug from me.
Love and kisses, Donuthole
Jas120: Oh thank goodness you do! Thanks for bearing with me!
ratti pillo: You are a light in my dark, dark world, my darling! Thank you for your kind words and support. It is much appreciated but I'm sure you already know that!
guessgirl: I'm so happy that you like Dylan. I've been told that I focus too much on my OCs and it's always been a tender point for me. But thank you for your support! It means a lot!
nikkiloola: I'm glad I was able to make you laugh! I'm much better at it than making people cry. Anyway, thank you for your review and sorry for the long wait!
Cat: Oh boy, do I know about long days. And oddly enough, I've realized that Dylan shares many personality traits with my ex-boyfriend. Yikes? Maybe. Thanks for the review, sweetie!
Torithy: Stinkypoo is my favorite. He has this special place in my heart and I'm sure he has one in yours as well. Haha, thank you for reviewing and thank you for your constant support!
crikee15: I was going to make it entirely from Dylan's point of view but then what about my other Duckies? Banksie and Maddie? Maybe? I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting but thanks for sticking by me!
wildchild: Okay, no joke, when I read the first part of your comment, I cringed, expecting it to be a flame. But you liked it! And that made my heart sing. Of course, there's going to be more Jules Gaffney! She's Dylan's favorite plaything, haha.
flyinghawk: I think Dylan prefers to call him the Russian Concussion. Oh and about the format? Trust me, writing it was just as difficult. So I cheated this time. Can you forgive me? Thank you for reviewing, darling!
the Crane of Fire & Chica: Okay, so I didn't really have any set celebrities in mind when I made my OCs. They kind of strolled into my head, fully formed. Then, I stumbled across Alex Pettyfer, this British actor, and thought Oh my God, that's Dylan right there. Look him up, I'm sure you'll agree! As for Carmen and Maddie? They don't really have famous faces attached either. Maddie's basically based on this gorgeous Asian girl that lives in my dad's building. I have a total girl-crush on her, lol. Thank you for reviewing though!
awtr101fan: Aww, thanks! Everyone's stressed right now and well, it's high school. Everyone's allowed to be a little stupid in high school. Thank you for reviewing, though! It's so appreciated.