Chapter 24: Vendetta

Most people would kill to have Lauren Lopez's life. You just needed to take a quick look at her teenage years' bedroom, to the walls covered in curricular and extra-curricular activities' diplomas, to realize that she was the perfect girl of a perfect family. A house that occupied half the block, straight As in her report card, a birthday party with attendance of the hundred people with most influence in Michigan's area.

Now, her newest achievement, according to the social media that she attempted to avoid so badly: a famous, handsome music star in rise. I've heard she didn't even like him before he had gotten suddenly like a celebrity, Rachel had once read out loud from her phone, absolutely amused. It's all true, Lauren told her dramatically, that's literally the only reason I'm involved.

"My darling, you look absolutely stunning." Wes, Lauren's uncle, said before wrapping his arms around her in a hug. "I can't believe you've grown so much. Happy birthday."

"Don't say it yet, it's bad luck." Lauren replied sweetly. "It's just a party, it's not a big deal to me."

"Well, it matters to me because I don't get to see you, ever, whether birthday or not!" The old man complained.

"I gotta agree with that." Her mother's figure appeared through the door of her room, smiling subtly. "The compliment, I mean. That color really suits you. You look so graceful and delicate."

Lauren was wearing a long, princess-cut champagne dress made of silk, contoured by straps and back neckline of a flowered lace of the same color; with high-heeled shoes that matched. The delicate tone highlighted a contrast with the color of her skin, which she didn't think would work, but did. Her hair was fixed in an upside down French braid that finished in an elegant bun, that way showing the new white earrings and a moon necklace her mother gave her as a gift –she didn't want to accept them, because she didn't feel that it was her birthday, but Kate insisted enough to do anything against it.

Her uncle walked to the door again.

"Don't take too long to come down, okay?" He asked. "I'll see you there."

"Just a minute." Lauren said, checking at herself in the mirror for a last time. "Did my father say if he was coming?" She asked to her mother once the man was gone.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, no." Kate stood up behind her, looking at her through the reflection in the glass.

Lauren sounded emotionless when she asked, "You didn't even invite him, did you?"

Kate gulped and took a moment before replying.

"I didn't want you to get your hopes up. You know how busy he is. It was for our best. Your best."

"He'd have come if you told him." Lauren replied firmly.

"Lauren…"

She looked down to avoid Kate's eyes. She knew that excuse was utter crap, and it did hurt her, but she didn't bother trying to take out a discussion with such a delicate subject right then. It had never been about her anyway.

"So, how are you dealing with the stressful management of the event?" Lauren's gaze didn't dare come up again.

"It's quite calm this year. People are so tired whatsoever, they don't have the guts to have standards. Which eases everything for me. But they do want to see you."

Wes knocked on the opened door of the room, but didn't walk in, "I'm sorry to disturb again, but there's a young man that claims he needs to escort you downstairs. Am I wrong?"

"Talking about standards." Kate whispered, throwing the care of the last conversation out to trash.

"Mom." Lauren warned. "Let him in, uncle. It's all right."

Darren walked in afterwards, and the girl became so stunned from something she saw on him that she couldn't control her expression. Her eyes widened yet at the same time she was almost frowning, and her jaw tensed. The shock was so big she didn't realize she should be the one introducing the two people, which practically obligated Darren to talk first.

"Mrs. Huddington. Pleasure to finally meet you," he said politely, stretching out a hand.

"So do I." Kate answered, shaking his hand, almost in the same satiric, polite tone they both used but only Lauren was aware of.

"I'm sorry –mother, this is Darren. Darren Criss." Lauren finally reacted to talk, but she remained there, still, behind them. She could not stop staring at him, she could not believe it was real.

"I'll see you two downstairs. You should come right away, they're waiting for you." Kate said as she walked away.

"Sure, we'll be there in a second." Darren replied, despite being aware that nobody was talking to him. He walked to Lauren and snapped his fingers in front of her face, "Come on, snap out of it. You got a crowd waiting for you there."

Lauren shook her head. "You –you cut your hair."

"How observant of you," Darren nodded, sarcastic and entertained. "I thought you wouldn't notice."

"How could I not notice!" Lauren was too shocked to catch the humor. Sure, she prepared herself to see a different version of Darren, with a suit, perfectly shaved and all, but she didn't see this coming. "I can't believe you cut your hair."

She couldn't stop saying it, and she couldn't stop staring at it. The afro had been such a trademark for him, and it was strange watching him without it. Now the length wasn't enough to form curls and instead it was combed into a hairstyle, though still messy and a bit wild, very different from what she was used to see.

"Okay, we've stated that I cut my hair, but my intention was to make myself more discreet, and that's not what is happening."

"Don't get me wrong, I actually love it. You look like an Italian supermodel or something. It's just so different, I'm starstruck." Lauren said. Once her mind had gotten used to it, she realized that it made him much more attractive, in a more mature way. It definitely made him more suitable to introduce him into that party.

She ran her fingers through his hair, and they slid swiftly. Then she shook her head and said sweetly, "Oh, your friends are going to kill me for this."

"That I can't avoid." Darren replied. His hands slid through her waist, to the low neckline in the back, and he breathed slowly into a much more serious expression, "You look breathtakingly beautiful, by the way. I mean, much more than what you usually do... Like if you just walked out of that Bisson's replica in your lobby."

Lauren winced, "It's not a replica, but thank you."

"You look like if you just walked out of that expensive Bisson's painting I probably shouldn't have touched in your lobby."

Lauren laughed, her head falling onto Darren's shoulder.

"Ready to go downstairs?" He asked.

She nodded. She was resigned to it since the start, "Are you ready?"

"Please. Always," He joked, offering his arm.

She gently held it with both hands, and allowed him to guide her to the hall. Her cousin Cassandra was playing the grand piano in the corner of the room, and she delighted them with the subdued notes of Fauré's Sicilienne when she entered in.

Nearly a dozen of people gave the girl their congratulations as she passed them by, stopping for their shake of hands and brief conversation. A few of them asked about his father, to which she answered that his work couldn't allow him to get that night free like if she had rehearsed it.

"What's up with him? Works on all of your birthday parties?" Darren asked, once they've walked to their table, in the center of the hall. The thirteen seats left started to get taken by the people, which were engaged on different chats all over the hall and the garden that you could see in the back, through the principal back door wide opened. The room appeared to be lightened in all golden, though the decoration was simple, but the excessive use of chandeliers and lights all over made it seem like if they were supposed to match Lauren's dress. It was elegant to the point of arrogance, but Darren had prepared himself to overlook all of it.

"No, but my mother wants to avoid to be in the same table, room or city as him, so I use a chorus and nobody has to go to therapy to discuss it." Lauren explained in a low voice.

"Doesn't that bother you? I mean, you should be the one that gets to decide who comes to your own birthday." Darren first moved his hand subtly towards the aperitif, but then realized that it was caviar, so he just grabbed his empty cup and ran his fingers through the contour.

"It's just a party." Lauren shook her head, "It's one night every year and keeps… the lands in peace. I can stand it."

"So, do we wait for dessert before we choose a virgin for the rite of spring, or…?"

"Shut up, I know my family. This works." She told him before focusing on the aperitifs.

A waiter approached them and asked Lauren what they'd be having to drink. Lauren shrugged and would've told him to ask her mother, if her mouth wasn't full; meanwhile, the eyes of the man went instead to Darren and he did the same.

"I'll have what everyone else is having." He just said. That was the easier way to make sure he'd keep the rest of the table content.

Lauren's mother Kate was sitting across the table, yet she had been paying enough attention to barge in the conversation, interrupting though with an extremely polite tone.

"You should do the honors and select a wine for us. I'm so used to my old Pinot noir that our cellar's been gathering dust for ages now." Then Kate looked at the waiter, "Can we do a blind tasting, Roger? It'll be perfect to get to know the mystery that the young Criss is to us all."

"Of course, madam." The man assured quickly.

"Mother." Lauren's warning became a comment as she added, "That's not necessary."

Darren smiled subtly, "It'll be a pleasure to attend that responsibility, Mrs. Huddington. Of course I will."

Lauren looked at him, trying to read his intentions when he decided to follow her mother's game. She knew Darren's deal and she was trying to get him to embarrass himself in her ways, but accepting it wouldn't make her like him.

"Excellent." The woman seemed to have grown two inches only from hearing him accepting the offer. "Roger, you know our wine cellar like the palm of your hand, the choices are up to your judgment."

Roger came back with the trolley within less than ten minutes. The six bottles of his choice were placed, unlabeled, next to each other; there were six empty cups and a decently sized spittoon at their reach. Lauren tried to hide her anxiety and discomfort by starting a chat with her uncle Wes and his wife, sitting next to her, so she could place the center of attention somewhere else, but everyone seemed too interested into the challenging tasting to keep the conversation alive, and the table quickly turned into a deep silence as Darren was handed the first glass.

It made her even more anxious to notice he was doing everything incredibly slowly, which is understandable only when you have no idea what to do. But at least he managed to do the swirl, smell and sip thing right. Her right feet started to twitch nervously at the end of her crossed legs.

Lauren didn't keep count of time but the thing seemed endless, like if Darren wanted to show off a skill he didn't possessed, testing the savor in his mouth even after the wine had been long gone of there.

If his friends saw him right there, with short hair, in a suit, spitting wine into the vessel like a professional, they probably wouldn't recognize him, and would instead feel a strong urge to punch him in the face. It was surreal for even her to do so.

"So?" Kate finally asked, subtly defiant, since it seemed he would not talk unless someone asked him to.

Still, Darren seemed to ponder for a while more before answering. Lauren bit her cheek.

"I'd say we start with the second choice, the Sonoma Chardonnay, since it fits well with the amazing lobster I heard this service does." He gave a complimenting look to the waiter, "I'm sort of giving a shot in the air in here, but I think the last glass was a young, red Merlot? Anyway, I think that'll be fine for the dessert and after-meal."

Lauren had never seen her mother struggle so much to put a smile and give a polite reply.

She turned to Darren.

"I swear to god that there are times when I have no idea who you are." Lauren whispered, too entertained and amused for it to be gracious.

Lauren's uncle and his wife were the ones they talked with the most during the dinner. The rest of the table was very entertained with different conversations, since they all knew each other because they were family or intimate friends of the family. Her uncle Wes found absolutely fascinating the fact that Darren was a musician, and would not stop asking all different types of questions about his career, finding strange he would not attend to a university with a music major. There were greater things for me in Michigan, he said captivatingly and looked at Lauren, and she smiled back despite she knew it was a set-up reply –studying music professionally would completely ruin Darren's passion for it, and that was it. Then he congratulated his drinking choice past mid of dinner time, and asked where did he learn so much about wines.

"My parents were big fans. I'm from California, which I guess explains it." Darren clarified. He managed to say and act not only appropriately, but charmingly, yet keeping a hint of his usual wit and bold attitude.

"I happen to know quite a few people in California. What are your parent's names?"

Darren grinned and shrugged slightly. "Oh, you won't know them, they're not the type of couple that goes out a lot."

"He likes to keep the mystery, doesn't he?" Wes gave a subtle look to her, and Lauren laughed because she guessed she was supposed to.

Darren forced a laugh as well before adding, "Actually, it's more of a…"

Darren didn't seem to notice he stopped talking when his eyes zoned out somewhere past the table. His expression froze for a moment, and Lauren understood the reason after following the direction of his eyes.

There was a blond young man they were pretty familiarized with, that had walked into the hall, to their table, and went first to introduce himself to Kate.

Darren looked at Lauren with eyes that said enough.

"I didn't know he was coming. I had no idea."

"You had no idea? How could you not know?" Darren had to put the entire willpower he possessed into lowering his voice. He seemed about to convulse, his hands tightening onto the sides of the seat.

"I didn't take care of the guests list, I –" Lauren stopped whispering after realizing Michael Perkins was walking to her. The guy put a hand on her shoulder, and Lauren knew she should've stood up to give a proper greeting, but it didn't come to her senses.

"Happy birthday. I'm so sorry I'm late, hopefully this will make it up to you."

He handed her a small package enveloped in a greyish white paper. She grabbed it, looked at him and forced a smile. Michael's hand was still on his shoulder.

"Thanks."

Darren looked extremely tense, but he was turned towards the other side to avoid looking at Michael or to have to acknowledge his presence, but his hand was pressing tightly his glass.

"I hope you have a great night. See you around." He said, finally pulling his hand away. He looked at Darren and added briefly before leaving, "Always good to see you, Criss."

If it wasn't because Darren's lips bent slightly for a moment, it'd seem he didn't hear him. Michael walked towards one of the other tables, but he didn't call that much of attention since the people that had finished dinner were standing up as well, lighting their cigars, giving walks and chatting.

"Excuse me," Darren abruptly said before standing up. He walked to the opposite side of the room and disappeared behind a door.

Lauren heard Kate's voice asking as she stood up too, "Is everything alright over there, dear?"

She nodded, but felt dizzy while doing so. She did not think her mother would be capable of inviting Michael as another card of her game. Then she reminded herself that the woman didn't know the whole story, so even if she did so, it wasn't out of cruelty.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Darren was already smoking, like whenever he was upset. Lauren had found him in the lobby, next to that Bisson's painting of a girl in a garden, looking out through the opened window. "I'm not in charge of the list is not an explanation."

"I have no clue, Darren. I swear I didn't know this." Lauren suddenly wished to not be wearing that dress and those shoes that made so difficult walking long distances, since getting near him took a while. "I was just as shocked as you."

Darren shook his head, looking out the window. He smoked from his cigar and then looked at her.

"But you're not going to kick him out, aren't you?" His tone was calmer, but that wasn't necessarily good.

"I can't do that." Lauren said firmly.

"You know I'm capable of standing everything else. But not this. Not him."

He'd do it in the blink of an eye if it the situation was the other way around.

He gave one step towards her and held her gaze, and his voice was different when he added, "Please, I would not ask this if it wasn't important."

He couldn't go back there and pretend that he didn't care. He could overlook the annoying decoration, the snobbish comments and the caviar, he could even ignore that everyone was waiting for him to fuck it up, but he couldn't ignore that the reason of Rick being killed was in the same room as him.

"I'm sorry. I can't." Lauren felt a pressure in her chest when she said it. But she couldn't risk it. She had made a deal with her mother and she had to play cool to maintain it.

Darren looked so disappointed that it hurt.

"Then I'll gave to be the one to leave," He announced calmly. He took a whiff of smoke before walking out, like if he was waiting for her to stop him.

She didn't.

"Lauren, dear, where's your boyfriend?" Wes asked, seeming both excited and disappointed. Her mother had arranged fireworks for midnight, but they were not very visible from their perspective from the back yard of the house. Let's go to the sidewalk, someone said and people rushed to walk outside before the spectacle ended. "He disappeared just when I was getting to know him!"

Lauren stared at the fireworks up them so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"He had an inconvenience and had to leave, I'm sorry."

"Such a pity, but that's how artists' are, I guess. I happen to need coverage for an event in my hotel this Wednesday. You should give him my number and tell him to give me a call."

"Sure." Lauren replied, though she wasn't really listening. "I will."

The fireworks ended, and everyone started to walk inside for the next round of wine before the toast. A red-haired, 40-something years old woman she wasn't sure she had seen before in her life, touched her arm and said sweetly:

"Lovely dinner, gorgeous, but I'm afraid I have to leave before the toast. I have to wake up my kids early in the morning. Happy birthday."

"Thank you, that's no problem." Lauren smiled as the woman walked past her and got inside of her car.

She waited until everyone else was inside, trying to catch some air before continuing. The night was becoming longer than what she ever expected it to be.

She closed her eyes for only ten seconds, wishing the night in her neighborhood was quieter. There was a motor engine in the distance, and another party –she supposed- a few blocks away. Wishing to be somewhere else was only making her feel worse, so she opened them again.

The loud engine sounded ridiculously close, and as soon as she turned her head to find the origin of it, she had to step backwards to not get crushed by a motorbike that was crossing the sidewalk at full speed.

The rider wouldn't seem disposed to slow down, whether crushing on her or not. When he passed next to her, he violently stretched out a hand that was too skilled for her to stop. Lauren thought he'd drag her neck, which he almost did, but his cold hand became a fist around her necklace instead. She gasped when he continued moving forwards, pulling from it until it broke. She instinctively put a hand in the place where he hurt her, and looked at the thief getting to the other side of the block, when he did something a thief wouldn't have done: he threw her necklace around the block, in the street, and then continued going straight.

"What the…?" Lauren didn't get it, but the situation was so strange that she didn't think it through before going to pick up her necklace. She probably wouldn't have if it wasn't her mother's gift, but this was the first night she wore it, and it wasn't worth to lose it because she didn't want to walk for twenty seconds.

She only realized the danger she had put herself on when she bent over to grab the little shining object from the floor. She was only a few feet away from her own house, yet it was late and there was nobody in the street, except for those two motorbikes that had appeared out of nowhere (except that they couldn't literally have come out of nowhere, and had to be waiting for her to do exactly what she did), behind her, and skillfully stopped, placing themselves in a way that let her know it wasn't smart to try to cross through. They were forbidding her to go back home.

She didn't recognize their faces, but she didn't need to.

Lauren turned around and remembered during the first ten steps that it was impossible to run in that dress or shoes, but that wasn't going to stop her from trying. That'd be better than to remain paralyzed, like she sensed she was about to. A third motorbike rider, the one that had stolen her necklace, had turned around the block and appeared in front of her, while the two behind her were slowly following her, like if the idea of chasing her was nothing but entertaining. She couldn't think of anything except run, run, run, it didn't matter how or where to.

It took them only twenty seconds to corner her against a payphone booth. She groped for the doorknob and closed the glass door with a loud slam, which would hopefully get the attention if there was someone near. There needed to be.

She didn't have money on to make a call home, but she knew emergency lines were free, and attempted to ignore the movement behind her as she pressed nine, then one, and…

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," A voice said, as a hand grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her head, hurting her.

God, no. This couldn't be happening.

"No," Lauren cried. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," A second voice explained, entering inside of the booth as well, "There's nothing you can give to us, princess. We're doing our thing, and you'll do the same by cooperating."

"No," She didn't know what was happening, but she knew she didn't want it. "People will look for me, if I don't go back."

"Don't worry, we'll give you back alive and well." The guy trapping her assured, his voice calm, and perforce intimate, like if they were close friends that hadn't seen each other in a long time. "Almost."

"You've come to the wrong person to ask about etiquette, man. I don't know." Joe had paid attention to the story before Darren rambled into the do you think it was wrong that I- do you think she'll be upset if-, so now he was doing fried eggs, careful not to get too close since he was shirtless and he had enough marks of boiling oil. "I know I would've punched Perkins in the face if he showed up in the birthday party of someone I care about. That would be the best gift. But whatever."

"I can't believe she wouldn't do anything about it."

Darren sighed and Joe didn't say anything else, which was probably for the better.

"Oh, shit, shit shit!" Joe cried, shaking a loose hand, when a bit of oil splattered on his naked belly.

Darren's phone rang on the table.

Joe rolled his eyes and stopped whispering shit. He didn't even need to glance at the screen to say sarcastically, "Wow, I wonder who that is."

Darren took a moment to breathe deeply before picking up. It was the least appropriate moment for someone to call him for a chat. He didn't recognize the number, and was even more stunned when he was informed it was a collect call, but he accepted it out of curiosity.

"Yeah?" The heavy breathing at the other side of the line was a bit worrying. "Who is this?"

The answer was delayed.

"Darren…it's me. I –I was attacked."

"What?" He stood up as a reflex, but he didn't know what he could do. "What happened? Who was it?"

"Three bikers. I'm in the payphone two blocks from home, and can't come out. I think they're gone, but –"

"I'll be there right away. Don't move."

Joe did turn around this time, concerned about the sudden pallor of his friend's expression. "What happened?"

Darren was opening the door when he looked at Joe and replied quietly, "I don't know."

He didn't recall to have ridden a bike as fast as he did that night. He'd remember the fear even years later from that moment, like a tightening rope that wanted to turn his guts filled with wine inside out, and drag him through the street. He'd never stop being trapped in his longest minute; guilty for abandonment, guilty for being too slow, guilty for caring about the wrong things in the wrong moment.

The sound of the brakes echoed for a few seconds after he hit them. He remembered wanting to call Lauren's name, but he didn't remember doing it.

Instead, he sort of stumbled into her, while he was trying to get inside of the booth and she was trying to come out.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Darren's questions kind of ran into each other while coming out along harsh breathes, but his hands still managed to hold her arms.

"I'm okay, I think." Lauren replied, getting her hands under his jacket and pulling him closer. The shock was more emotional than physical, but she couldn't explain where did that urge for contact come from. "They tricked me into following them, and I couldn't run and –I didn't know what they wanted."

"What was it? What did they –?" His question was clarified once he was able to look at her after the first impression. There were red marks on the skin of her neck, shoulder and arms consequent of the resistance (though nothing to seriously worry about), one of the straps and a small part of the dress had been ripped off – so she kept holding it with a hand under her armpit, but most evidently, there was a word written in a red ink, though untidy, still readable.

Vendetta.

Darren gulped and convinced himself that he wasn't going to throw up.

"What else did they do to you?"

Lauren shook her head. "Nothing. They only said it was a message for…" She made a pause before finishing, "for you."

She thought she wouldn't be capable of talking, but seeing and touching him made her completely conscious that the horrible moment was over. She didn't feel in danger anymore, and her body started to feel as comforted as walking into a warm home after a storm, blood beginning to heat fingertips and the uncontrollable need to take off humid shoes.

"They didn't –They didn't –" Darren delicately placed a hand on the mark that was becoming purple in the curve of her neck. Words were hazy inside.

"No, I'm fine. That was all." Lauren frowned after realizing how that hand was cold and trembling over her skin. "Darren, you're shaking." Only then she realized that he looked pale and sick. "What's wrong?"

Darren ran both of his hands through his hair, a gesture that was still obvious despite there wasn't much hair to mess with.

"I thought… I thought they would –"

"Look at me, I'm fine." Lauren assured, resting her face on his chest and pulling him in a hug. "It was just a scare."

Darren intertwined his fingers in her hair, and let his hand rest there. It would not remain completely still, but Lauren didn't say a thing. The feeling of another breathing against his chest did calm him.

It wasn't enough.

"They're mocking us. That's what they're doing." Darren explained, though his voice was monotone to the point that it seemed serene, they knew him too well to realize that this only meant he was dulling everything inside for the sake of the situation. "They don't think we're serious, so they keep playing with us."

Darren had been resting his back against the wall for a while now. His hands were turned into fists inside of his pockets to hide the quivering that would not want to stop.

Brian looked at Lauren through the opened door of Darren's room. She was sitting on his bed, still in her golden dress, with Darren's jacket on partly covering the red letters across her chest, and a cup of tea in hands that Rachel had made before sitting beside the girl to make her company.

"It's all right if they mess with me. But this…"

Joe merely put a hand on Darren's shoulder as a sign of support. He didn't finish the phrase.

"So what now?" Brian asked. They were talking quietly to keep Lauren from hearing and upsetting her more.

Darren looked at Joe, tacitly passing the voice of command.

"We prove them we're not." He explained. "We go to New York for the second part of our plan, and we make a little… visit. To our old friends."

"When?"

"Tomorrow." Joe continued. "We can't give them more time to fool around. But we need to be very discreet this time, so it's going to be just the two of us."

Brian barely had time to nod before a firm voice interrupted, much louder than their previous conversation.

"And me." Lauren crossed the door, revealing she had been hearing them still. "I'm sorry to ruin your date, but I'm going too."

"Are you serious?" Joe raised an eyebrow in disbelief, like if he didn't consider she was in the age to join the grown-ups conversation yet.

"I'm trying to keep you as safe and less involved as possible. If you noticed," Darren told her.

"I know. But if I wasn't involved before, I am now." Lauren quickly replied, like if she had it figured out for days.

Brian cleared his throat before saying, almost like a suggestion, "I don't think you're aware of how dangerous this situation is –"

"I'm the one who got attacked by three people today at the corner of my house; I think I'm pretty aware of the situation, Brian." Lauren's voice cut the air like a knife, and the tension following turned into an expectance of eyes focusing on Darren.

He simply shrugged, like if there was nothing to clear, "Questions?"

"Um, yeah. I do have a question." Brian said, confused. "What's up with your hair?"

A/N: I haven't re-read as much as I'd like to, so I apologize as I'm not really sure about what I just posted. I'm less sure about what I posted than what I usually am.

I'm incredibly grateful for the people that have reviewed and liked the story, please keep doing it, you have no idea how much it helps me to keep going.
Thank you for reading -3