A/N: Hello my lovely readers! I'm oh so thankful you've taken the time to stop by and read my fic. This idea has been lurking in my mind for so long and I've finally decided to put it down on paper, or laptop screen, or whatever.
I'm hoping to keep the updates on a regular schedule. I'm looking at a weekly update, preferably on a Wednesday or Thursday. While I can't promise to always be on time, I do promise not to abandon this story, for I already have a sequel drafted in my mind as well.
The word count is going to be around 5,000 words a chapter for those of you who were requesting a longer first chapter. (The first posted was just the prologue, so no worries, the rest will be much longer.)
Again, thank you for your support and I hope you enjoy this story as much as I do.
XOXO- ESS
Disclaimer: I own nothing; simply my own ideas.
Chapter I
"And we're on in five, four, three, two," My stage manager, and mother, Isobel, mouthed at me the last number, giving me a quick wink as the lift began to rise, sending me to the top of the blackened stage where the thousands of screaming fans were watching, their arms outstretched in the air as they reached for me, the flash of their cameras flickering in my eyes every single second that passed by. "And cue the lights," I could hear in the small chip placed in my ear, "Microphones on, Elena's positioned. Three, two, one," and then the lights were on in a blink, the screaming intensifying as my presence was made known on the stage.
"Hey guys! How do ya'll feel tonight?" I called into the microphone hooked around my ear, the pumping adrenaline coursing through my veins like a shot hot coffee. The response was nothing but a mass murder of cries of glee and happiness. I took a few steps across the stage, looking out into the crowd. Each concert made me realize how lucky I was to be supported by such a dedicated group of people. Their screams only got louder as I walked down the runway, separating the fans into two sections, their hands grabbing at my ankles that were just too far out of reach. "Well, if you're ready for a show, then so am I. Let's kick it guys!"
An hour and a half, and eleven songs later, the curtain dropped and the lights dimmed, signaling the show's, and my tour's, end. The screams died down, but a few girls stayed, chanting my name from the other side of the curtain. Typical. The past year of touring all across America had been an experience I would never forget. I was desperate for my own bed and I was ready to stuff my face with ice cream and pizza to celebrate my upcoming world tour that had been planned for the following year.
"Elena, we need to speak with you about something," Isobel said, her voice a little too nervous for my own liking. It wasn't like my mother to reveal her emotions this much and quite honestly, it made me a bit scared to hear what she wanted to say to me. Someone placed a damp towel around my shoulders as a large pair of hands pushed me through the long corridors, a bottle of water coming in contact with my hand halfway through. My mother's black ponytail bobbed a few feet ahead and her pace was too quick for her normalcy. Whatever was on her mind was weighing hard. It was a bit frightening.
The hallway emptied into a few smaller rooms that we'd previously used for warm ups and the tour crew left my mother and I alone, worry lines creasing around her mouth as she paced in front of me, her fingers lacing and unlacing themselves. "Your father called during the show."
"Oh, okay?" I questioned my brow furrowing. My father and I were not close, but it wasn't like him to interrupt one of my shows unless it was important. This set a very anxious feeling off in my brain, all my nerve endings standing at attention now.
"It's about Jeremy."
My heart sank down into my feet. Jeremy was my younger brother. Though he was only four years younger than me at the age of 22, we all still treated him like the little baby of the family. He was the only person who kept me grounded during my hard times. He supported me when no one else did. He believed in me. "What happened?"
"Your father wants to talk to you in person. Now that your tour is over, your father and step mother have invited you to move in with them for the summer in Wilmington so you can be closer with them," Isobel explained, sitting on the ottoman positioned at my feet. "It's ultimately your decision, but I need to book a red eye if you choose to do so."
"Um—yeah. I'll go. Just, why can't he tell us what's wrong with my brother?" I asked, the curiosity gnawing at me.
"That's something you'll have to talk about with your father. But he was set in stone about not informing us of what's happening," my mother pushed a lock of black hair off her face and stood, brushing her hands along her navy blue jeans. "The after party is about to begin. Go see Bonnie about your hair and makeup and I'll meet you in the lounge in fifteen, okay?" She made her way towards the door, pausing to turn around and meet my eyes, "Don't worry about your brother, okay? Your father said there was nothing for you to worry about."
"Yeah, okay," I muttered under my breath, picking up my expensive handbag off the floor. Mother insisted it's only a part of my image, but the stupid thing is so big I feel like I'm walking around with a suitcase every day. I dug around until I found my cell phone and pulled it out, tapping the power button to try and wake it up faster. When it finally flicked to life, I scrolled through the many text messages from my close friends, congratulating me on finishing the tour, thanking me for being such a good friend and inviting them to my final show, apologies because they couldn't stay for the after party, and a few random ones from unknown numbers that immediately were deleted. None were from Jeremy. None were from my father. Nothing.
Doing my best to push thoughts of my little brother to the back of my mind, I scurried down the hall until I found Bonnie, a cigarette hanging from her lips while her fingers sped across the screen of her cell phone, texting at lightning speed. She looked up at me when I entered the room and tapped the tip of the death stick into an ash tray. Mom hated when she smoked in the building, but Bonnie wasn't really one to abide by the rules. "What can I do for you, m'lady?"
"We have an after party, Bonbon. I need to look hot. But I'm not sure you're gonna be able to do much with this flat hair," I complained, raking my fingers through my hairspray tangled hair. The curls from the concert had died out and it was left looking a bit like an untamed bird's nest.
"Please, take a seat," she smiled kindly, twirling her chair around to face me while she dug around in a portable file cabinet for only God knows what.
"You're the best, you know that right," I complimented, giving her one of my best shit eating grins. She spun the chair around and began picking and teasing various pieces of my mass of hair.
"Yeah I know," Bonnie smiled back, her eyes totally focused on my hair.
"My father called tonight during the show," I ventured, knowing that she would immediately connect the dots. Bonnie and my brother dated when we were back in high school. But now, she was engaged to be married to a marine named Luka and Jeremy was something that I wasn't sure about yet.
"And?" Bonnie asked, beginning to braid my hair around the crown of my head, tugging each piece with delicate force. Her eyes looked up to meet mine when I didn't continue.
"Oh, sorry, um," I paused and licked my dry lips, reaching for the bottle of water sitting on the table in front of me. I uncapped it and took a few long swallows, already feeling my throat becoming hoarse from tonight's work. "Something's up with Jeremy. He won't tell me or Mom what it is, but Mom seems worried."
"Eh, I'm sure it won't be that bad," Bonnie tried, pulling the remainder of my hair back into a tight ponytail and securing it with a black hair tie. "Are you going to see him?" She asked, handing me a cinnamon tic-tac before turning the chair around to work on my makeup.
"Yeah, I'm taking a red eye tonight and staying with my dad and Jenna in Wilmington. I don't know if I'll like it there. It's so—small, and homey and stuff," the thought made me shudder. I had worked so hard to be the person I had become and in places like Wilmington, that was nothing; I was a nobody. All they cared about was keeping the beach clean and building homes for the less fortunate.
"You never know, maybe you'll like it there," Bonnie suggested, "Close your eyes."
"I don't know," I replied, obliging to her request and closing my eyes, "What if I hate it?"
I felt the cool brush of mascara across my lashes as she spoke, "Call me. I'll be there faster than you can say 'motherfucker'. Open."
I opened my eyes and she turned me around, giving me a chance to take in my appearance. My long brown hair was pulled back meticulously off my face, the intricate braiding subtle yet beautiful. The small amount of makeup she'd applied to my face accentuated every small feature from my doe eyes to my high cheekbones. "You're a genius, Bonnie. Thanks, love."
"Just doing my job," She brushed off nonchalantly, picking up her cigarette that still smoked from her ashtray.
"Smoking kills," I called, sifting through the many racks of clothing situated in the middle of the room. I pulled out a pair of black jeans, a red sequin tank, and a leather jacket, tossing them all to the side on the couch.
"Yeah, well, I'm bound to die sooner or later," She called back, teasing her bangs and spraying them with half the can of hairspray.
"I'd prefer later," I rebutted, stripping of my concert attire and quickly sliding into the dry clothing. "How do I look?" I asked, pushing the rack to the side, allowing Bonnie a full view of my new outfit.
"Hot. Here, these shoes will look perfect," She said, snagging a pair of knee high black boots from a box beneath her table. "Now go, before you make me cry," Bonnie said, sniffling for dramatic effect.
"Whatever," I said, rolling my eyes into the back of my head as I hobbled, trying to stuff my feet into the boots. "See you at the party, right?" I asked her, dabbing a bit of my favorite perfume on my wrists and jogging towards the door, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Isobel's gonna kill you if you're not there," I added, racing out the door before she could protest.
The upbeat music was thumping through the oversized pair of speakers and three tables filled with an array of different foods sat variously around the room. About two dozen of my closest friends stood around, drinks in hand, chattering and snacking amongst themselves. When I entered, Isobel stood up from her sitting position in one of the chairs, and waved her hands in the air, signaling the music to mute and for the people to be quiet. "Friends, family, staff, we're all here to celebrate the end of a very successful year of being on tour with our superstar, and my daughter, Elena Gilbert!" A roaring of clapping and whoops and hollers echoed throughout the small area, "I'd like to propose a toast to the girl of the night. Elena, I hope for many more years in this business with you. We are all so proud of you." She raised her glass in the air, "To Elena."
Unison of voices called back, "To Elena!"
The night flew by. If I wasn't signing autographs, I was talking about my future. If I wasn't talking about my future, I was talking about my tour. If I wasn't talking about my tour, I was talking about my love life. My boyfriend of three years, Matt Donovan, was a part of the staff, and he was none too happy to hear about my plans for the summer.
"Why can't I come with you?" He complained as we walked down the hall to the awaiting limo parked just outside the arena's back exit. His dirty blonde hair was mused and his baby blues were stressed, frustration lines creasing at the corners of his eyes.
"Matt, baby, you know I want you to come with me. But, this is my other family. They don't know you and they won't have any place for you to stay. Wilmington is the last place you want to go. Trust me. The only reason I'm going is because my father requested my presence for something," I soothed, touching his cheek as we neared the door. Two buff men thrust the doors open and we hurried out, doing our best to dodge the roaring paparazzi as they bombarded us with questions and flashes of their expensive cameras.
"I'll rent a place in town. I just—I don't want to be a whole summer without you," He pouted, jutting his bottom lip out like a little kid, just as the door to the limousine was slammed shut and we pulled away from the curb, leaving a crowd of people in our wake.
"Listen, I'll only stay for two weeks, okay? I won't stay the whole summer. Deal?" I compromised, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Fine, fine, but you owe me big time when we you get home."
"I'll bring you a sea shell or—," my response was cut off by the chiming of my cell phone in my pocket, "Hold that thought," I said, placing my index finger to his lips to stop his groan. If it was one thing Matt hated, it was being interrupted while we were trying to have a conversation. I looked at the caller I.D. and knitted my brow together. It was Jeremy. I pressed the green button and brought the phone to my ear, "Hello?"
"Hey, um—I'm not exactly sure who this is, but it says sister in his phone and I figured you'd be a good person to call. So, Jeremy is sort of passed out drunk on my couch. I didn't know if I should call him a cab or what—but, yeah," The male voice spoke into the receiver, his displeasure with the situation hidden well beneath his façade of compassion.
"Yes, hi, I'm Elena Gilbert and Jeremy is my brother, but unfortunately I'm out of town and I won't be in town for another few hours. Is there any way you could try calling my father?" I answered, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"Hello, Elena, I'm Da— I think he's waking up. I'll call his father. Thanks." And the phone line went dead.
"Well that was odd," I said, slipping the phone back into my pocket just as we arrived back at my penthouse. I turned to look at Matt who was busy reading something on his own cell. "Want to come in and help me pack? I've got my red eye in a few hours."
"No thanks. I'm gonna go home and try to catch some sleep," He said, leaning over to kiss my forehead. Matt and I were never really ones for physical contact. I mean, I was physically attracted to him, I think. I've never had another boyfriend besides him and I don't exactly know if what we have is enough to be called a physical attraction or not. I mean, I love Matt. Things are simple with him, not complicated. And when you have a life like mine, simple is welcomed at anytime.
One of the perks of being a superstar was that people always did what you wanted them to, whenever you wanted them to do it. So, when I asked to have a private first class section of the plane, the airline went as far to rent me my own jet for the red eye. Of course, I could have taken my own jet, but I wasn't a fan of taking out my baby for a red eye. Something about the night and my cherished jet didn't settle well with me. So, the provided air carrier would have to suffice for the five hour journey from Los Angeles to Charlotte.
After my bags had been loaded and I'd taken a seat in one of the soft white leather chairs, buckling my seat belt for the take off, my phone chimed again in my oversized purse, sitting on the floor beside me feet. Snagging it out before the pilot requested I turn it off; I unlocked the screen and quickly read the message from Matt: 'Have a good flight. Call me tomorrow. Luv ya.' I replied a quick response: 'C u soon', and powered down the device, pushing it back into the front pocket of my bag just as the attendant poked her head out and requested I shut down any electronics and buckle my seatbelt. My watch read a blaring 2:17 A.M. and I was already utterly exhausted from my show and nights events.
It didn't take long for sleep to catch me and I welcomed it with open arms, not even bothering to fight the nightmares.
I'm pretty positive I looked like a zombie when I exited the black car that had been waiting for me at the airport in Charlotte to bring me to Wilmington Beach. The jet lag was already kicking in and I knew that if I didn't find a bed soon, I was going to crash on the ground. With it only being noon when I finally reached the house I was going to call home for the next two weeks, everybody was out and about, ready to enjoy a great day in the June heat.
I wasn't out the car for ten minutes before my father came rushing down the front steps, a grin on his face so large the neighbors across the inlet could probably see it with surprising visibility. I set down the bags that adorned my hands and barely had time to extend my arms before I was enveloped in a massive bear hug. "Hi Dad," I muttered, my breathing momentarily cut off by his strong arms squeezing my midsection with unrequited force.
"Elena, my baby girl, you've grown up so much!" John, my father muttered into my hair, swirling me around a bit in the middle of the yard. "Let me look at you!" He exclaimed, holding me at arm's length, his gaze looking me head to toe. "You're so beautiful, 'Lena," John whispered, tugging me in for another hug. This time I was able to wrap my arms around him. Things weren't always smooth with this side of my family, but everyone was always so pleasurable and I kind of missed these people more than I realized.
"So, this is the new home, eh?" I inquired, taking in the rustic looking home with maroon paint chipped shingles, a wicker set on the front porch with a glass of lemonade and sweet tea on both tables, and the tire swing that hung from a branch not too far from the wraparound porch. "It's got definite potential," I muttered, twirling my ponytail around my finger. I was still in my clothes from the party and my feet were blistered from the many miles I'd put on the boots. I was desperate for a shower and sleep, but my father seemed preoccupied with my mere presence.
"Yeah, isn't it great?" my dad asked, placing his hands on his hips and taking in the home like it was his first time seeing it. As he turned to look at me again, his eyes almost bugged out of his skull. "I don't mean to sound rude, but you look like death. The red eye was rough?"
"The day after one's tour, one spends the day in bed, sleeping and eating and watching movies. Not taking a red eye at two in the morning to visit family across the country. The time difference is going to kill me," I said, shaking my head and lifting up the bags I could carry. "Do you mind helping me take these to my—," I paused and furrowed my brow, "Where exactly will I be sleeping?"
"Your bedroom, of course! We saved a room especially for you and Jenna helped fix it up for your arrival. I can't wait for you to meet your niece, sweetheart. She absolutely adores you," John cooed, lifting the handles to my two suitcases in his hands and rolling them towards the front door. "Your brother is asleep, so be careful. You know how cranky he can be if woken up," he added with a dramatic roll of his eyes.
"I'm rather jet lagged myself," I admitted, rubbing my already smudged makeup with the heels of my hands, trying not to drop dead from the utter exhaustion. Of my twenty six years of life, I don't think I've ever been this tired. With every blink, I felt as though I was rubbing salt in my raw eyes, and I desperately needed a shower to wash off the smell of the airplane.
Pushing through the front door with my foot, I trudged through the door, not bothering to speak to any of my family or friends currently residing in the house. A pair of small hands grabbed at my knees as I walked, but, in my dazed stupor, I didn't even acknowledge it, the only thought raging in my mind was how comfortable the bed was going to be once I laid down and finally caught some shut eye. John showed me to my room; a pale blue one with an eggshell white comforter and fluffy black pillows that dappled the top of the bed spread to contrast with the pastel walls.
"Well, this is it," John muttered, motioning around the room with his hand.
"Thanks, I'm gonna shower and then sleep for the rest of my life," I deadpanned, pulling my hair from the tight confines of the ponytail holder and raking my fingers through it messily, my nails snagging on a few strands in the process.
"There are some t-shirts in the drawers of the dresser if you'd like something to sleep in," my dad said, taking a few slow steps towards the door, "Dinner is at eight and we're having spaghetti—if you want to join us. I know you might be tired and sleep through it and that's fine, too. I'll save it for tomorrow," John said nervously, rubbing his jaw roughly with his hand, "Holler if you need anything," he stepped out the door and began to close it, only to pop his head back in and add, "Oh, and Jeremy has something to tell you whenever you have a free moment or whatever. Goodnight."
I didn't have time to slip in a question before the door was closed and I was left alone in a room so foreign to me that it was hard to consider such a place home. I could hear the waves crashing quietly in the inlet, and I could see the beautiful blue green water from my floor to ceiling bedroom window on the wall opposite of my bed. Though I would have loved to gaze at the small patch of water that had such a mesmerizing effect that it made time itself stand still, I was about to fall asleep standing up, and I refused to lay down until I had showered.
The bathroom wasn't difficult to find, considering Jenna's interest in interior design had sparked in her coming up with nifty hanging signs, labeling each and every room of the house. The particular one hanging from the door had a bunch of yellow stars on it and the words scripted in perfect cursive read, "Elena's Bathroom". It was very tacky and just a bit cliché, but I had to give Jenna points for trying, right?
I had shed my boots and jacket, leaving on the black jeans and red sequin tank I'd worn to my after party, thankful to get rid of the clunky attire. In one hand I carried my cosmetic bag, filled with shampoo, conditioner, and face wash. In the other, I gripped one of the t-shirts I'd found in the drawers, and a pair of boxers that I'd also found tucked inside the dresser. I considered it a bit peculiar that men's clothing were stuffed in the room my dad was calling mine, but I assumed that Jeremy just had an overflow and needed somewhere to keep his extra things. Plus, he wouldn't mind if I borrowed something to sleep in until I unpacked my bags.
I could hear the water running from the opposite side of the door and I groaned loudly, hoping the person inside might hear me and get out faster. As if they'd actually heard me, the shower halted. I could see the steam swirling beneath the bottom of the doorway and snaking its way between my bare feet. A barely audible hum could be heard through the thin wood and I banged my fist against the door, "Is there any way you could hurry up a bit?" I asked with my apparent annoyance and agitation clear in my tone. I was in no mood to wait around.
"Five seconds," the male voice called back and I furrowed my brow. Jeremy was asleep, Jenna and John were in the kitchen, and I was positive my five year old niece did not sound like a grown man. Who the fuck was in the house and why were they showering in my shower?
"Okay," I called back, leaning against the wall and closing my eyes as I listened to his footsteps against the tile flooring. Only to make things worse, I began to fall asleep against the wall, and of course, as soon as the guy opened the door, I began to fall face first towards the floor. I didn't even have time to register what was happened before a pair of impossibly strong hands gripped onto my sides and helped hold me upright.
"Whoa, I know I'm irresistible, but you don't have to fling yourself at me to get my attention," he said as my brain finally decided to make an appearance, my body slowly realizing what was happening.
"Get your hands off me," I growled, swatting his hands that sat on my hips.
He pulled his hands off me like he'd been burned and held them up in surrender. It was then that I noticed he wasn't wearing a shirt and, quite frankly, it should be illegal for him to do so. With a chiseled abdomen and broad, muscular shoulders, this guy looked like he'd just stepped out an Armani catalogue. "Sorry, ma'am," he drawled, a twinge of a southern accent twanging in his words, but his smirking lips conveyed that he meant the exact opposite, "but your face was about to hit the banister and Jenna would kill you if something happened to her new paint job. "
"Who are you; why are you in my home; why do you know so much about my family?" I nearly shouted, spitting out the questions like fire, one after the other without as much as a pause between them.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" He answered my question with another question, my top and most scorned pet peeve. A few strands of his jet black hair hung meticulously over his face and though I was already developing a particular disliking to this boy, my fingers itched to push it back off his architecturally perfected face. His words broke my reverie, "The shower is all yours," He said, sounding uninterested when he spoke, though he made to movement to get out of my way, "oh, and I request that you wash my boxers before returning them," He grinned, a dimple surfacing on his left cheek.
"I don't like you," I said, not bothering to hide my distaste. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried and failed to stifle a yawn. "I have clothes, I thought these were Jeremy's and he never fails to lend his big sister some clothes when she needs it," I rebutted, my eyes narrowed into slits, "besides, I'm sure they have an STD anyway," I said sharply, tossing both the boxers and the t-shirt in his face.
"Yep, from the many women I have sleeping in your bed every night. Have a nice day," He snapped back, stepping from the doorway and walking around me, taking the steps two at a time on his way down. I could barely hear the words being passed from mystery man and John, but I did catch a few clips of sentences here and there.
"She's certainly a keeper—"
"She might be a little rough around the edges but—"
"She told me I'm a walking STD—"
An enormous roaring laugh, definitely from the mouth of my father, echoed throughout the entire house. That was enough. I was completely spent, I was desperate for a hot shower, and I'd just got laughed at in front of a guy who'd already been added to my long list of hated people, yet I'd failed to get any information on him.
I showered quickly and wrapped myself in a towel before scurrying off to my bedroom to finally catch the shut eye I'd been craving for the past five and a half hours. Even though I had to dig through one of my own bags to fetch something to sleep in, it was totally worth it. The Neiman Marcus nightgown that Matt had bought me for our three year anniversary fell over my skin like satin and I was very thankful to have taken the time to get out my own pajamas. I noticed the light streaming in the windows was cringe worthy and I stood on my tiptoes as I tried to hang a large black blanket from the curtain pole, with no curtains hanging from it, to shield away some of the pesky sun.
Once the room was darkened to perfection, I pulled out three pills from my cosmetic bag, swallowing them without a glass of water. They hung in my throat for a moment before gliding down and disappearing deep inside the confines of my body. To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement, so, being sure I hid the bottles extremely well, I opted for one of the empty dresser drawers, shoving the bottles in a pair of socks before tossing them away and pushing the drawer back closed.
Finally time to sleep, I pulled the duvet back and snuggled under the warm blankets. I swear I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow.