Chapter 5

Lucas

I wake up with insistent knocking at the door. I open a crack to see what's up, and Brooke just barges in with a cup of coffee in her hand. She begins talking fast.

"Hey, friend, good morning. Do you know what time is it? It's past ten. Rachel just got in and she is passed out in our room. And you know what? I'm bored and I don't know anyone in this stupid town, so we're going out..."

She finally stops for a second and looks at me, standing in front on her in my boxers, one eye open and one closed. "Wow, Broody. So, that's what you've been hiding under the clothes. Nice six-pack. I like the pecs too."

"Brooke?"

"I know, I know. Old people take a little longer to wake up." She hands me the coffee. "I don't know how you like it, so I did it black, three sugars."

I sip the coffee, grimace at the cloying sweetness, and look at her. Hair in a loose ponytail, yellow sundress to midthigh and white ballet shoes. She looks even better than last night. I smile at her. "Gimme five minutes." She tosses herself on the bed.

"Five minutes. Move it. I don't like waiting."

I take a fast shower, brush my teeth and put on camo shorts, an old Bobcats jersey and canvas sneakers. Honestly, I feel like a kid on Christmas morning. "All ready princess. Where are we going?"

"I have no idea." She grabs my hand and pulls me along. Apparently I don't move fast enough to satisfy her. "I just wanna get out of here.".

As we are crossing the lobby I suggest. "Head uptown."

"What does this mean?"

"We can just take Seventh and head left. It's the direction of Central Park, some ten blocks north."

"And what is uptown?"

"I don't know you enough to guess what you like, but the best stuff, the Museum of Modern Art, the Metropolitan, the Museum of Natural History, The Frick Collection, The Central Park Zoo, they are all in that direction."

"What about the designer stores? "

"I guess that would be Fifth avenue. Turn right on Forty Sixth, walk a couple of blocks then turn left."

We walk up fifth, past the Rockefeller Center, and there's a whole bunch of designer stores. She loves it, Louboutin, Vuitton, Kors, Valentino... I never had much interest in fashion, but her enthusiasm is contagious. I find myself enjoying her keen eye for detail, and her contempt for commonplace. We window shop, but when we get to the Valentino store, we actually go in. "Just look at that dress, Broody." It's a jade green number, silk, sleeveless, with macrame detail on the top, a marked waist and lightly plied to the knee.

"It looks nice, Pretty Girl. Wanna try it on?"

"Yes, yes!" I confess I'm curious to see her in that dress.

The store, of course is very posh, with high ceilings, indirect lighting and all indications of luxury retail. Brooke and I are certainly not dressed to impress. A very haughty blonde,steps forward, quickly dismissing me, and turning her attention to Brooke. She looks like she's about to dismiss her too, but then she frowns. "Where did you buy that dress?"

Brooke twirls around and gives a full dimpled smile. "It's an original B. Davis exclusive design."

"B. Davis?"

"A hot, up-and-coming designer from LA."

I whisper in her ear. "Very hot." That earns me a slap in the shoulder.

"Shush!"

In the meantime, Miss Frosty settles down to dealing with us. "It's nice."

"It is, isn't it? Well, I'd like to try that green sleeveless from the window. Size two."

She raises her nose to the air and pontificates. "The price tag on that dress is thirty eight hundred dollars. On sale."

I frown at her. "Do you have a size two?"

She turns around and walks away. "I'll be right back."

I whisper in Brooke's ear. "B. Davis?"

"That's right, Broody. It's my own design. You like it?"

"I don't know if I mentioned it before, but it looks very nice on you."

"Thank you. You had not mentioned it." She presses a finger against my chest. "I take a lot of trouble with my appearance, Broody. And I do expect boys to appreciate it, you hear? Even if they are just friends."

"Sorry, Miss Davis. I did think you looked very nice, but, in my defense, you caught me sleeping..."

She gives me a radiant smile. "You're forgiven. Just this time."

I look again at the dress. "So, your design. I'm impressed."

She speaks in a dry, proud tone, suddenly sounding older. "My designs got me a full ride scholarship to Parson's and an internship at Victoria's Secret. I'm good, Broody. I don't know just how good yet."

She manages to surprise me over and over again. "You'll do fine."

The saleswoman comes back with an elegant brunette in her fifties, sporting a nicely polished professional smile. She addresses herself to me. "Good morning, I'm Marsha Truitt, manager of this store."

"I'm Lucas Scott, beach bum and gigolo, and this is my sugar momma Brooke Davis. "

Brooke giggles, which I guess was my intention, and Ms. Truitt looks shocked. Brooke gives a predatory smile. "I'd like to try the green Valentino. Any problem?"

"No problem, follow me."

The stuck up blonde turns to me in a flirty tone. "Can I offer you anything, Lucas? Coffee, water,..."

"No thank you."

About five minutes later Brooke comes back, wearing the green dress. It's classy, sexy in an understated way, hugging every luscious curve on her body. "It's stunning, Brooke."

She smiles at the compliment and looks at the manager. I'm taking it. Would you have it delivered to the Marriot Grand Marquis, room 1241? Miss Brooke Davis." She opens her purse and gives her a black Amex. She disappears for a bit, and comes back with her yellow dress. "Moving along, boy toy?"

"With pleasure, princess."

She changes like a chameleon. Before the Valentino store, she was a breathless little girl, full of energy. Now, after buying that dress, she acts older, more contained.

"You like shopping, Broody?"

"Yes and no. I like shopping with you."

"Why?"

"A beautiful looking girl, trying on different dresses? What's not to like?"

"Boys in general find it boring."

"I'm not a boy."

She slides a nail gently down my arm. "No, I guess you're not."

We stop in front of Tiffany's, a couple of blocks further north. We stare at the window display for a bit, and I decide to do something stupid. I drag Brooke in, and make a discreet request from one of the salespeople. She comes back with a black box.

"Brooke, close your eyes."

"What are you doing, Broody?"

"Humor me, Pretty Girl. Close your eyes."

"All right."

It's a long silver chain, with a round cabochon aquamarine, framed in silver. The pendant nestles between breasts when hanging from her neck. I place her in front of a mirror.

"Open your eyes"

She squeals, as she fingers the pendant. "Oh my god, Broody. It's beautiful. It's the color of your eyes. Thank you, thank you." She gives me a kiss in the cheek. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you liked it."

After that, we head to the Zoo, wandering around the enclosures. After a while, we sit down in front of the monkey habitat. Brooke keeps playing with the pendant and smiling. She begins talking, without looking at me.

"I'm so fucking nervous, Lucas. I was the bitch queen of high school, the most popular girl, the one everybody looked up to. I never really thought what was going to happen after high school."

"Parsons and Victoria's Secret. It sounds like you're going to do just fine."

"I'm just a little slutty cheerleader with fashion sense. Broody. I'm afraid New York is going to swallow me whole, and I'll never be seen again."

I put my arm around her shoulders and she leans against me. "I've known you for less than a day, but I've already seen you're so much more than that, Pretty Girl. You're a designer, good enough to impress the admissions board of the best fashion school in the country, the people at Victoria's Secret and the snooty sales clerk of a Valentino store. You're also, full of energy, incredibly smart and beautiful. You're going to make quite an impression, Brooke Davis. You're going to turn this town upside down."

I can feel her relaxing a bit in my arm. "Thank you." She looks into my eyes, with a pleading look. "I think I'm going to need you to repeat this little speech to me a few times, Lucas Scott. Please stick around."

"I'm not going anywhere. But, make no mistake, I need you too. I'm going to miss you something fierce when you go back to LA."

She gives me a tight hug. "I sure hope you do. We're gonna do some damage when I come back, you hear me?"

I smile, thinking what kind of damage she has in mind. "I'll be looking forward to it."

Brooke

It's the biggest carousel I've ever seen. I sit on a horse, legs up in the air, screaming, and I can imagine I'm six years old again. The time when I actually had parents. I laugh, and Lucas laughs with me, without knowing why. I have no idea what is it about him... I need to get in his pants, to have those strong, capable hands do all kinds of naughty things to me. And the way he looks at me... Damn. Get a grip, Brooke! Just forget it. Right now, I'm just going to enjoy having him around. Like a big, strong protective bear, making things safe and fun. No need to complicate things.

"One more turn, Lucas. Just one more."

"You got it. I'll be right back."

He buys two tickets, and I see him answer his phone. He gives the attendant one of the tickets and points at me, but stays outside the carousel, ditzing with his phone. When the turn ends, I get out and approach him. Suddenly he's a different guy, more focused, a little distant. I guess I'm catching a glimpse of the successful Doctor Scott. Not as much fun to be with as my friend Lucas, but just as hot.

"Anything serious?"

"Well, yes and no. It's not life-or-death, but I should go to the hospital. Do you want to tag along? It's a fast errand."

I'm doubtful. "I'm not a big fan of hospitals."

"It's a big part of my life, Brooke. And I'd love to show you around a bit."

The alternatives are going back to the hotel and the sleeping slut, or walk around this godforsaken town by myself. I guess I could steal his room key and go diddle myself in his bed. With any luck they hadn't changed the sheets... Damn, I'm hopeless. I start laughing. "All right, McBroody. Do we have time for lunch first? I'm starving." He stares at me. He probably thinks I'm bonkers.

We stop at a hot dog cart, and I find out I have a new favorite food. I eat two of the things, with kraut, relish and dark mustard, washed down with root beer. My mouth died and went to heaven.

"This is so good!"

Lucas smiles, amused by my enthusiasm. "I like it too. I can see you're a cheap date."

I smirk at him. "Depends on the company."

"Thank you, I guess. What's your favorite food?"

"Well, let's see. Spaghetti and meatballs, deep dish pizza, french fries, New York street hot dogs, apparently, anything chocolate." I smile. "Whipped cream and a sweaty boy..."

A hot dog bite takes a wrong turn, and he starts coughing. I pat him in the back, until he composes himself again. "You trying to kill me Pretty Girl?"

I smile. "You should get used to it, friend. My mind is never far from the gutter."

"My mom owned a little diner when I was growing up. She is an amazing cook. That's my favorite food, anything from her kitchen." He looks straight into my eyes. "I enjoy mixing food and sex too"

"Hm." Not a boy. This is going to be fun.

The pediatrics wing has several rooms arranged around a nurse's station, with a large playroom in a corner. The place has a kind of forced cheerfulness to it, like it's trying to forget for a second it's a hospital. Lucas introduces me to the nursing staff as a friend, and gets in a deep conversation with the mother of a sickly looking ten-year-old. Busy people pass by, ignoring me, except a young resident. A tall, cocky black guy with merry eyes, who strikes a conversation that ends up with him asking me to go have a coffee with him. He's too much of a player for my taste. His talking a polished stream of bullshit. I much prefer awkward, sincere and a pinch of innocent in my boys. I bet, dollars to pennies, young Lucas was exactly like that. I finger the pendant he gave me.

I wander to the playroom, where half a dozen kids in hospital gowns are about. Since it's Sunday, most of them have family with them. The exception is a small girl, playing with a tea set and some stuffed animals in a corner. I approach her and ask. "Can I play with you?"

"Sure. You can have tea with us. I'm Abby, and these are Bo, Nuggy and Jellybean."

I sit down across her. "Hi everybody. I'm Brooke."

"Hi, Brooke. You're very pretty."

"Well, thank you Miss Abby. You're very pretty too." She has dirty blonde hair, huge gray eyes and stick thin arms and legs."

"You're a liar. But that's ok. I know you're just trying to be nice."

"Oh, you're wrong, sweetie. I can see you're sick. But sickness goes away. And under the sick, there's a very pretty little girl."

She smiles. "I have short bowel sickness. It means that my body doesn't use the food that I eat. They're going to give me a new bowel. A trans-plant."

"Wow. And then you'll be just like new."

"That's right. Can you read a book for me?"

"Of course."

She got up and picked up a book of fairy tales. I sat on an armchair, and she sat on my lap. I begun reading. A few minutes later Lucas came along and I started closing the book, but he sat on the floor next to the chair and gestured for me to continue reading. Soon a couple more small children joined us. I kept reading, until one of the nurses comes, and says Abby needs to get back to her bed.

He gives me a tour. The highlight is an empty OR, where his eyes brighten, and I imagine his big, strong hands, gloved and covered in blood, delicately sewing, or cutting, saving someone's life or limb.

"I grew up dreaming of basketball. Then this was taken away, and I dreamed of writing. This was never even in the running, it sneaked up on me when I wasn't looking. But I've had the cheering of the crowds and applause after reading my stuff to a roomful of fans. All of that is nothing compared to the high of the OR."

"I can't even begin to imagine, Lucas."

He looks into my eyes. "What's in your dreams, Pretty Girl?"

"A famous young actress, showing off one of my designs on the red carpet. My label in half of the closets in America. Opening the show of my own line in New York Fashion Week. A personal interview in Vogue about the latest trends. A picket fence and a bunch of children with the right guy."

"It seems to me that you're in the right track. Talent and ambition you seem to have plenty. Now you need hard work and a bit of luck."

I smirk. "That's the Lucas Scott recipe for success?"

"I think it's everybody's recipe of success."

I look around the OR. "And how does it feel, to have already achieved your dreams?"

"I haven't. I'm missing the picket fence."

As we're going back to the street, Lucas says. "The hospital has a volunteer program. You could come sometimes and play with the kids, or read stories. Some of the kids here stay for a long time, and their parents have to work, or live far, so the kids spend a lot of time alone."

"I think I'd like that."

We meet Rachel at a trattoria near the hotel. It's a small place, packed with tourists, with fake italian decor. Rachel is already seated when we walk in.

"Doc and Ho, over here."

"Hey, Red." Lucas gives her a kiss in the cheek."

"How was last night, Slut?"

"Hot and sweet, baby. Gotta love those professional athletes. What about you guys? Did you get down and dirty?"

"Nothing like that. We're just friends. But Broody here took very good care of me."

"I enjoyed the company too."

We order, and soon the food comes. As predicted, it's not very good. Lucas and I keep the light flirting we've been doing all day, and Rachel decides to tease us about it.

"Oh, you two are sooo cute! C'mon, spill it for aunt Rachel. Not even a little kiss?"

"Nope."

"You guys are kidding me. You two have enough chemistry to start a meth lab."

"Mind you own skanky fake ass, Slut."

"All right, never mind that. What are your plans?"

"I have plans for tonight, but I'd like to take you two out tomorrow. Unless you'd rather skip the boring doc's company. Promise I won't be hurt."

"There's nothing boring about you, Broody."

"And how would you know, Ho?"

"Can it. So, tomorrow?"

"It's fine. I just don't want to be the third wheel."

"Don't worry. We meet at the lobby, say half past six."

"Deal."

"So, you guys are coming back in three weeks?"

"We'll be driving a U-Haul across country. We want help moving in and a massage each afterwards."

Rachel looks at me. "A massage. Really?"

"Trust me."

"Count on it. Drop me a text when you're near Manhattan. I hope I'll be living upstairs by the time you guys come back."

Dinner comes, we eat and Lucas pays the check and leaves. I follow his backside as he walks out. "What's wrong with you, Ho?"

I sigh. "I so want a piece of that..."

"So, what's the problem?"

"I don't really get him. He's clearly into me. It's like he's afraid, or something."

"Maybe he is. Maybe he thinks you're out of his league."

I laugh, bitterly. "Out of his league. You don't know what you're talking about. He is rich, looks like a fucking GQ model, super duper smart and he cares. He really does. He is totally out of my league, not the other way around."

"You sell yourself short, Ho. Any guy, and I that definitely includes the Doc, should feel fortunate if you choose to spend time with him. You're one in a million."

"Thanks. Bullshit, but thanks."

"Listen. He is rich, single and thirty something. If he is not a player, he probably wants to settle down, start a family. Maybe that's what's holding him up. Maybe he feels you're not wife material, at least not at eighteen and a freshmen at college. Are you ready to drop out of your life and have his babies?"

"No! Of course not."

"So, what do you want with him?"

"Honestly, I have no idea." I play with the aquamarine pingent. "I just know I want him around. And I have the hots for him."

"Is he off limits?" I think a bit about it. "Nah. You can go for it." I may not know what to do with him. But I think I already have Lucas wrapped around my fingers. It will be interesting to see how far Rachel gets.

Lucas

She opens the door wearing her cute little smile, a loose tank top and boy shorts. She seems to be rested and in a good mood. I give her a pair of long-stemmed red roses, which makes her go hunt for somewhere to put them, while I drop a suit bag and my backpack in her sofa. I like this little silent game of ours. Before I make my mind to say something she's back, and we kiss. She tastes of mouthwash and a bit of coffee, and by the sweat, she was probably exercising when I knocked.

I'm sorry to break the make out session, but we do need to talk a bit.

"Hey, Allie. Hi."

She gives me a hungry look. "Hi."

"God, you're sexy."

"I know that. I'm sure you didn't interrupt what we were doing to impart that information."

I laugh. "No. That was just me being polite."

Her smile broadens a bit. "All right. You look pretty nice too. But overdressed. Strip down to your boxers and we can talk a little."

I do as told, and speak. "Have you eaten?"

"I had a sort of breakfast an hour ago. Did you?"

"Yeah, I had dinner. But I brought a apfelstrudel and some vanilla ice cream, in case you're interested." I open my backpack and take out the bag with the strudel and the ice cream, which she puts away.

"Thanks. That may come in handy later." She takes me by the hand leads me to her bedroom. We lie down. Facing each other.

"I received confirmation of Johnny's Ostheogenesis Imperfecta today. I discharged him, and I'll see him as a clinical patient for treatment."

"Great."

"I'm a little fucked up today. It's nothing to do with you."

"Tell me, Big Boy."

"I spent the day with the Brunette from the picture. Brooke. She's got under my skin, bigtime."

"Did anything happen?"

"Just flirting. Let me put it in simple terms. She is eighteen. If she was twenty-one, I'd be coming after her with everything I've got. As it is, I think she still has a lot of playing, of exploring to do before settling for anyone. There is a big risk of me getting burned, as she changes interests, and there's the risk of stifling her journey, if she goes for it."

"I see. Age is a pretty elastic thing, you know? You don't know how much life this girl has packed in her eighteen years. My suggestion. If you're in doubt, do nothing. Keep her close, but don't move forward. Get to know her. Eventually things might become clear."

"The advice of maturity. Be patient."

"Yeah. She left you with a very short fuse, I assume. Close your eyes. Think of her."

I close my eyes and imagine her. Allie pulls down my boxers and works on me with her hands and mouth. It takes me thirty seconds to come inside her mouth. She giggles. "Short fuse indeed. Can I meet your girl?"

"I'm taking both of them out tomorrow. I was thinking dinner and a show. You free?"

"Why don't I meet you at hotel bar for a nightcap? I could stay afterwards. Just text me when you're heading there."

"How do I introduce you?"

"I'm your girlfriend. Is that ok?"

This is going to be fun. "That's fine. Does that apply to the workplace as well?"

"Oh, yes! Best cure for insistent Don Juans. Just remember to swing by and kiss me in public once in a while."

"Oh, such hardship."

"Can we get back to business?"

"I thought you'd never ask."