Disclaimer: One Tree Hill and its characters belong to Mark Schwahn, The CW, etc. I'm simply whoring them for my own amusement.
Spoilers/Warnings: I'm screwing with pretty much everything in the OTH verse. For now if you've seen S1, you're golden.
Summary: AU. A one night stand blossoms into much more than Lucas and Peyton originally bargained for.
AN: Sorry for the long lapse in updates. School started and then I had computer trouble and things were just bad all around. Reading back through all the reviews, everyone is eager to see what's the what between Lucas and Nathan. I'll tell you this, the relationship that you'll see throughout this fic between Lucas/Nathan is very reminiscent of S1. Also, this chapter contains a few slight S2 spoilers. Character wise. Enjoy!
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03. Sound Effects & Overdramatics
Peyton's first thought as Lucas entered the city was that Tree Hill was homely and peaceful, much different from Los Angeles, with its rundown buildings and obvious love for high school basketball. It wasn't bustling or busy, but therein laid its charm. She liked it immediately, though panicked a tad when she realized that there wasn't a Starbucks in sight.
All during the flight she had questioned her sanity in deciding to come here with Lucas, meeting his friends and family, burrowing herself further into his life. They barely knew each other and here she was, entering his life, preparing to meet his family. It was daunting, scary. Although, she still had a few reservations, she was adamant about making this relationship work, refusing to compare it to previous ones, let the train wrecks before haunt her. She was going to make this relationship work—she liked Lucas too much to let it fail.
The first stop they made was at the hospital. Peyton expected it, but wasn't quite prepared for the meeting of the parents—not before she had a chance to brush her teeth, refresh her makeup and fluff her hair, at any rate. As Lucas drove around looking for a parking spot, she used the time to check her reflection, frowning at her haggard appearance. She pinched her cheeks to put some color on her face, swiped some lipstick on and ran her nails through her hair.
"You look fine," Lucas told her as he pulled into a parking space and turned off the car.
"Fine," she huffed after he'd climbed out. Of course he'd say that—he wasn't the one about to make the first impression. For Pete's sake she had bags under her eyes!
Lucas helped her out of the SUV, taking her hand as they made their way across the parking lot and into the building. She let him pull her around, obviously having been through this before since he seemed to know where he was going. When they reached the third floor, he stopped at the nurse's station inquiring, "I'm looking for Dan Scott."
The nurse typed the name into her computer, pointing to the hallway behind her, saying, "Room 316, honey."
Peyton squeezed his hand, nothing that his steps had slowed as they made their way down the hallway. Outside the room, Lucas stopped, staring at the closed door. "I could stand out here if you'd like," she offered, feeling the need to give him his space, his privacy. Plus, she was attempting to delay the inevitable, a fact that she had no doubt that Lucas was aware of.
Shaking his head, Lucas told her, "No. That's not necessary." He inhaled deeply, gearing himself up. "Are you ready to meet the clan?" Peyton took a deep breath of her own, then nodded. As ready as I'll ever be, she thought as Lucas tugged her forward.
Pushing open the door, Lucas led the way into the room. It was swathed in darkness and smelled like alcohol and antibacterial. "Mom?" Lucas called, his grip on Peyton's hand loosening.
"Lucas?" came a soft voice from somewhere in the room.
Dropping her hand, Lucas crossed the room, enveloping a short, dark haired woman in his arms, soothing her with comforting words, a warm brush of his hand across her back. His mother. The way Lucas handled his mother made her hate him. He was tearing down her defenses with everything he did, from putting down the toilet seat to opening her car doors. But this? The way he treated his mother… the man was begging her to fall at his feet and hand him her heart—which she was about two blinks from doing.
"How is he?" Lucas inquired, looking over his mother's head at his father's still form. He'd been here once before and hadn't like it then either. No one liked to see their parents laid up in a hospital bed for any reason whatsoever ever, more so whenever it involved heart complications.
Karen stepped away, brushing her watery eyes with the back of her hand. "He's stable." She circled the bed as she told her son, "The doctors are going to monitor him closely and then they'll decide what kind of action to take." Karen rearranged Dan's blankets, pushed a strand of hair from his forehead. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the movement, noticed that Lucas wasn't alone, that he'd brought a girl with him. She stilled, and straightened. "Well, hello," she said to the girl, shooting a reproving look to her son. Where the hell were his manners?
Peyton lifted up her hand, giving Lucas's mother an awkward wave, instantly regretting the ridiculous move. What was she—fifteen? God. "Hello, Mrs. Scott." She stepped forward beside Lucas, his arm outstretched toward her, trying to mask his grin.
"Mom, this is Peyton." Lucas pulled Peyton against him so there wasn't a misunderstanding, that she didn't come to the conclusion that Peyton was a platonic friend or a casual acquaintance. Instead, he was making sure that his mother knew that Peyton was someone special, that she meant something to him. A significant something. More than he cared to admit, actually.
"Hello, Peyton," Karen told the girl. Then to her son: "Lucas, you didn't tell me that you were bringing someone home with you." She shook her finger at him, tsk-tsking him. If he had warned her, she may have put on some makeup, fixed her hair. She wasn't usually so… sloppy. Circumstances being what they were had led her to neglect her vanity.
"It was a spur of the moment thing, Mom. Peyton and I just… this is new and I didn't want to risk her finding someone else if I was going to be here longer than a few weeks."
Karen observed her son intently, noting the coy looks and smiles he sent the girl on his arm, the way his thumb caressed the inside of Peyton's wrist. Well. This was a promising development. She had despaired of Lucas every settling down, especially after the whole situation a few years ago. But obviously he'd bounced back and she couldn't help her happiness.
"Can I...?" Karen circled the bed to Peyton. "Do you mind if I hug you?"
Peyton was alarmed for a moment, but then concurred, "Sure. Okay."
Karen hugged her son's new girlfriend as he mouthed over her shoulder, What the hell, Mom? She stuck her tongue at him while he threw his hands up in exasperation.
After a moment, Karen took a step back, a little sheepish. "Was that awkward? It was awkward, wasn't it?"
"A little, yeah," Peyton confessed, though secretly she was a little relieved to be so well received. She didn't have a good track record with mothers. Every time she met one it all went to hell in a hand basket. Jake's mom had hated her, starting the trend. There was nothing that she could have done to make that woman like her.
Then again, maybe it wasn't her at all. Maybe the mothers before were just bitter old housewives who couldn't tolerate anyone else being happy. Karen seemed happy. After all, none of her ex-boyfriends' mothers had ever hugged her.
"Sorry. I get overemotional sometimes," Karen told her. "Besides, it's been a while since Lucas has brought a girl home—" she added, casting a knowing glance at Lucas.
Abruptly, Lucas cut her off with a curt, "Mom!" The woman was so ecstatic that he was dating again that if he didn't stop her she would divulge something that he'd rather she didn't. Bringing Peyton home had been a whirlwind decision, but it was one he hadn't made lightly. He knew sometime during the duration of their stay she would ask questions, she would discover things—he just hoped to delay that at least a day.
Karen held up her hands, knowing when to be quiet. "Okay. Alright. I won't say any more," she guaranteed. "Except that I'm really grateful that you've moved past everything," she added quickly.
Lucas closed his eyes, suppressing a groan. He felt Peyton's eyes on him, questioning. Luckily, his father chose that moment to wake up and intervene with a raspy, "Lucas...? Is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me."
Peyton and Karen stepped back so that Lucas could approach the bed, pulling up a chair. He sat down and immediately started conversing with his dad, inquiring about his condition, if he was comfortable, if he needed anything. Peyton watched agog, his concern over his father's welfare tugging at her heartstrings.
"Are they close?" Peyton whispered to Karen, now more curious than ever about Lucas and his familial relationships. Neither of them had been too forthcoming in regards to their families. Until his mother's phone call, she hadn't known if his parents were even alive, much less still married.
"They are now." Peyton was glad that Karen didn't expound on that. She'd rather get the dish from Lucas himself, have him trust her enough to confide in her and tell her all about his life. For the first time since she was nineteen she wanted a relationship.
Peyton moved closer to Lucas, catching the tail end of his conversation with his father. "... she's pretty." She snapped to attention, immediately reaching the realization that the two men had been discussing her. What had they said? She wondered.
"She's standing right there. I think she can hear you," Lucas whispered to his father, relieved that his dad had reacted positively toward Peyton. Commenting on how pretty his girlfriend was always happened to be a good sign. Not that that would matter, but he knew when his father disapproved of the person he was dating. Dan Scott made his opinion known and usually not delicately.
"She couldn't until your mom stopped talking to her," Dan pointed out ruefully, looking past his son, at his wife. Karen rolled her eyes, but ignored him good naturedly, just like she always did. Sometimes he couldn't help but wonder why the hell she put up with him. God knew that he hadn't always treated her as she deserved. He had treated her hellishly after she'd told him that she was pregnant with Lucas. He still didn't understand how she could forgive--much less marry him--after he'd suggested abortion. She was a gem, his Karen.
Lucas grabbed for Peyton's hand, but it was already occupied, holding his dad's. "How are you, Mr. Scott?" she inquired, patting his dad's hand.
True to form, Dan Scott did what he did best—he flirted. It was harmless, but it was fun. Besides, what else could he do besides lay in bed, watch ESPN and bark orders and insults at the nursing staff? "Better now that you're here," Dan said, pulling her hand to his lips to kiss it, enjoying the looks of exasperation on the faces of his wife and son.
"Mom, get his leash," Lucas demanded when a blush colored Peyton's face; he could tell that she was enjoying the attention.
Karen stepped forward to appease her son. "Alright, Casanova, cool your heels," she told her husband, though it was good to see him enjoying himself. He'd been heeing and hawing since his admittance to the hospital. Not that she could blame him; she wasn't a big fan of hospitals either.
She'd known Lucas would bring Dan around, curb his cranky disposition. It was why she always turned to him first. Dan and Lucas hadn't always had an easy go of it, but it had gotten easier over the years. When in each other's company, the two were inseparable. Also, intolerable.
"The nurses aren't pretty, Lucas," Dan complained. "How can a man get better when he's poked and prodded by bears? Nobody wants to be jostled by a bear."
Lucas started to laugh, but disguised it with a cough into his fist when his mother sent him a withering look. "Don't encourage him," Karen warned her son, then told her husband, "Behave yourself," gesturing to Peyton.
"I have a bad heart, Karen. I'm not dead. Yet." He turned away before he could see Karen's eyes, allow her to send him one of those pitying looks that he'd become accustomed to since his last heart attack. His heart might not be up to snuff, but dammit the rest of him was. He smiled broadly at Peyton as his wife sat down beside him on the bed. "So, how long are you in town?"
She shrugged, casting a coy glance in Lucas' direction. "Until Lucas gets tired of me, I guess… or the other way around."
"As if he could."
Peyton was charming his father, Lucas noted, standing back to let her work her magic. He stood there silently, watching as his parents became enthralled with Peyton. Within minutes they were hanging on her every word, inquiring about her job, who she was and where she came from. Lucas despaired of them ever stopping until they blessedly abandoned the subject of Peyton in favor of acquring juicy tidbits about some of the artists on her label.
He let them badger Peyton with question after question until he'd reached his breaking point and quickly put an end to their interrogation. "We should get going," he announced abruptly, taking everyone in the room off guard, Peyton especially. She gave him a look that told him she wasn't ready to end the casual rapport that she was sharing with his parents.
"Now? We just got here." Peyton wasn't ready to go yet. She had to admit that she was enjoying talking to his parents. They had taken an interest in her—in her life—that her father hadn't taken since her mother had died. It was a fact that saddened her, but she'd learned to deal with it.
"Dad needs his rest and you're getting him excited." At Peyton's blush, he grabbed her arm and swung her toward the door.
Peyton ignored him and geared herself up to say her goodbyes when Dan surprised them both by saying, "What are you doing with him anyway? I know he's my son, but you could do better. A lot better."
Smothering a laugh as Lucas scowled at his father, she insisted with a jab to his side, "I don't know. He's okay."
"You really think so?"
"You are both hilarious," Lucas deadpanned. To Peyton, he said, "Can we go now? I mean, if you're done making nice with the enemy." He scowled at his dad, albeit good-naturedly.
Dan waved them away, grumbling, "Yeah, yeah. I had enough of you anyway. Peyton, don't let Lucas keep you away. You come back and see me."
Before Peyton could say that she already planned to do just that, Lucas pulled her from the room at the same time a nurse entered it.
—
Lucas kept casting glances at Peyton as he drove them away from the hospital. She had been quiet ever since they'd left his father's room—the never-ending questions, the ceaseless interrogation. Surprisingly she hadn't complained or vented her frustration at his mother's initial reactio to her or the probing questions that his dad had posed. Lucas didn't know whether to be relieved or alarmed. Shouldn't a woman have an opinion on her boyfriend's parents?
He reached across the seat, taking her hand. "Hey. You okay?" he asked, concerned by her silence.
Peyton turned her head to give him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. Really good, actually."
Lucas didn't buy that, not for a second. "You seem... I don't know, distracted."
"No, no. I'm just trying to process everything."
Lucas gleaned what he wanted from that, immediately rushing to apologize for his parents. "He's not usually like that—my dad. He just gets a bit of cabin fever whenever he's confined to a bed so he finds ways to amuse himself. His target today was you. You were like a shiny new toy for him."
"He didn't bother me, Lucas. To be honest, I thought he was kind of charming. I saw a lot of you in him." She fell silent for a moment. "Your parents... They seem... Happy."
"They are. It's kind of sickening sometimes to see just how happy they are." Lucas cast Peyton a quick glance. "You sound surprised."
Peyton admitted, "I'm not used to seeing happy couples. My parents were happy at one time I guess... Mostly I saw my dad date one wrong woman after the other in a vain attempt to get past losing my mom. Maybe that's why I can't have a happy, healthy relationship. I didn't have good role models."
"Maybe it was just your relationship partners," Lucas offered.
"Maybe so." Peyton looked out the window, saw that they were whizzing by the beach. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"It's kind of personal."
"If it's too personal I'll let you know."
Peyton bit her lip, taking a moment to wonder if this was a wise topic of conversation. Then again she was the one that broached the subject in the first place; it was too late to turn back now, the question more or less already presented. "Your mom... She alluded to... I'm not sure, but... Your last relationship… it ended badly, didn't it?"
Lucas drove for nearly a mile before he said anything. Though he managed to curse his mother from here to eternity in his head. "That's... something I'd rather not talk about."
Peyton knew when she'd overstepped her bounds. "Okay. Forget I asked."
He released a deep, conflicted breath, as if he wanted to tell her, but just couldn't bring himself to do it. "It's just... complicated, Peyton."
Peyton knew all about complicated. She had an intimate relationship with complicated. She just hadn't contemplated that Lucas did, too. He just seemed so carefree, so… uncomplicated.
She told Lucas she understood, then turned her eyes out the window, hiding the fact that it was absolutely killing her that his previous relationship had wrecked him. She let the subject drop, content in letting her imagination run wild with visions of Lucas besotted in love with some beautiful, perfectly perfect person. Peyton hated her, even though she didn't know the woman or had any right to feelings one way or the other.
Ten minutes later, Lucas stopped in front of one of the houses that lined the beach. She said nothing as she got out of the car and followed him up the steps to the front of the house. Inside, her heart did a little flip in her chest.
It was exquisite. The walls were creamy beige, decorated with sailboats and anchors and fish. One wall was completely glass, aside from the two French doors that led out onto the porch, that also boasted a narrow walkway that led straight down to the beach.
"You live here?" she gaped, tearing her eyes away from the ocean to look back at Lucas. She wondered if he stood here, peace washing over him as it did her right then. Probably not. Men weren't known for that self-centering crap. They could care less about harnessing their chi and whatnot. But, as she glanced over her shoulder at him, she could see the change. He may have moaned and groaned about coming home, but it centered him—she could tell. There was still a haunted look in his eyes, as if he harbored a few secrets.
"Guilty," he said with a satisfied smirk, the haunted look dissipating with a blink of his eyes. "My parents have their own up the beach and up until a few years ago I just stayed there. Then I found this—"
"It's peaceful here," Peyton interjected with a contented sigh as she returned her attention out the windows at the ocean. "So the opposite from L.A."
Peyton smiled thinly and embarked upon a tour of the house. She made it as far as the bookshelf in the living room before she stopped. Her eyes drifted from one picture to the next, realizing that there was very little Lucas had told her about his life. She stopped suddenly, focusing on one photograph in particular. In the picture him and another boy were fighting over a basketball. "Your brother?" she asked, remembering him mentioning his brother a time or two, however offhandedly.
Lucas couldn't remember if he'd told Peyton about Nathan, but it was obvious that he had at some point. He wondered just how much he had told her about Nathan, about the fragile relationship they had.
"Were you close?" Peyton asked even as she concluded for herself that they were competitors.
Which was why it surprised her when Lucas said, "Once. As close as two brothers could be."
"What changed?"
"We grew up."
Without another word about his brother, Lucas led the way up to the second floor where the bedrooms were. Peyton followed Lucas into a room that made her jaw hit the floor. In the middle of the room was a huge four poster bed, adorned with a coverlet that was an array of bold colors—oranges, browns, reds. The walls of the room were a deep brown and various black and white photos hung from golden knobs. French doors opened onto a closed in porch that housed sofas and a round table.
"This is lovely," Peyton gasped somehow resisting the urge to throw herself down on the bed and roll around.
"I knew you'd like it," Lucas said smugly.
"Is this your room?"
Lucas shook his head. "No, my room is through that door." Peyton moved to the door that he pointed to, opening it to find a huge bathroom.
"An adjoining bathroom?" She walked into the room, casually taking in the ceramic tiled floor, marble countertops, the raised bathtub and huge walk-in shower that took up an entire wall. "It's got a vanity space," she said, a little surprised.
"A preemptive measure," Lucas said with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders.
"For...?"
Lucas leaned against the doorjamb as he told her, "That was added after I bought this place. An old man lived here before. Spent his whole life here, never married. It wasn't girl friendly. Throughout the house there were dark walls, dark upholsteries… So, as a service to my mother, I had the bathroom—the majority of the house, really—completely redone. The vanity table, she told me, would be appreciated by any woman that I brought here. Clearly, she was right. Once again."
Peyton just grinned. With Lucas falling into step behind her, Peyton pushed open the door that led into his bedroom, her feet sinking into the plush carpet. She stopped in the middle of the room, eyes taking in the dark blue walls, the black contemporary bedroom furniture… and not much else. "Wow, Lucas. I love what you've done with it," she remarked dryly. "Can I have the designer's number?"
"Don't be catty. It's a little sparse, I know."
"Little is an understatement."
Lucas moved into the room as Peyton sat down on the bed. "All I do is sleep in here so I didn't see the need for all the bells and whistles."
"What, you're telling me that you don't bring hoards of women back here?"
Lucas felt a little insulted. Did he have that playa, playa vibe about him? God, he hoped not. He wasn't that brother. Or, at least, he wasn't anymore. "Do I look like that kind of guy to you?" he asked, sitting beside her on the bed.
Peyton answered quickly, but quietly, "No." She looked at him, offering him a small smile of repentance. "No, you don't… if you ever were."
Lucas brushed a chaste kiss to her forehead. "So," he said, veering the subject away from his dating habits. "My family tend to make themselves at home when I'm… home. I'll understand if you want to take the separate bedroom…" It was a fact that the Scott clan ran amok his home, whether he had a girlfriend or not. Either way they were always around, his mother always eager to host a party, his father to regal everyone in attendance about his high school basketball career—and Nathan's journey to the pros.
Sighing, Peyton told him, "You're doing that gentlemanly thing again. You know how it annoys me." She wouldn't mind seeing his parents more; it was Lucas who seemed averse to it. Maybe it was the attention he didn't want. Maybe he just wanted to hang low while he was in town. Whatever his hang up was it was obvious that he didn't look forward to any visits from his family—impromptu or otherwise.
"Sorry. Look, I know how my family can be. You saw that for yourself at the hospital. They can—and will—insinuate themselves here. My friends, too. But they're another matter. I just want to make sure you know what you're in for."
Peyton waved off his warning with an, "Oh, please. You haven't seen intrusive until you meet Brooke, my best friend. A closed door means absolutely nothing to her."
"So you understand?"
"Completely." Then, shaking her head and pushing her finger into his chest, she said, "But I'm not staying in the guest room." She'd come all this way to be with him, not be banished to another room to safeguard Lucas's delicate sensibilities. "I'll brave it out in here, with you. Unless you'd rather me sleep in there. All by myself. I mean… I could get lonely."
She toed off her heels and laid back on the bed, enjoying the redirection of Lucas's eyes—to her gaping shirt. "When you put it like that..." Peyton pulled his hand until he was stretched out on top of her.
Not much talking was done after that.
—
Peyton was sitting up in bed at six-thirty in the morning, watching Lucas get dressed for his first day at Scott Motors. It was obvious that he was nervous, if his imitation of a woman was any indication. At current count, he'd already changed his dress pants twice, his shirt four times and was incapable of picking a tie.
"Which one?" Lucas asked stepping out of his closet, holding up two of his ties for Peyton's veto. In her opinion they were both horrid, but she wasn't about to tell him that.
Peyton swung her legs over the side of the bed, crossing the room to him. "Definitely not the green one." Taking it out of his hand, she tossed it back in the closet, choosing the other that he held out. "This one will do. It'll make you look smashing as the big, bad boss."
"Smashing, huh?" Lucas asked as Peyton stood in front of him and began fastening his tie.
"Oh, totally." Her job complete, she smiled up at him, smoothing out his collar. "Perfect."
"So, what are you going to do today?" Lucas hadn't even thought what she was going to do everyday (for God knows how long) while he was away at the car dealership. He didn't know what exactly her work entailed and how long that would take her. If she had things to accomplish everyday, if it would keep her occupied until he'd return at night.
"The usual. Haggle my artists. Suntan." She grabbed his tie, pulling him closer. "Meet my boyfriend for lunch."
His smile faded. "Peyton... I won't be able to get away for lunch today."
Peyton felt herself deflate. She would've liked to meet him, find out how his day was going. Plus, it would be a diversion from going out of her mind. What was she going to do all day to keep herself occupied? There was only so many artists that she could call to annoy, so many emails to answer. She wasn't much of a television watcher, either. The occasional Friends syndicated episode or Grey's Anatomy on Thursday, but that was at night. What the hell played during the daytime? Infomercials? Soap operas? No thank you. "That's okay. I'll find a way to amuse myself. I'm sure I won't die from boredom. Pretty sure, anyway."
Lucas watched her walk away. "Now you're making me feel bad."
"No. Luke, it's fine. I'll be fine. This is fine. Everything's..."
"Fine?" He filled in for her. "Is there another word you've like to substitute for fine or should I get you a thesaurus?" Peyton didn't say anything; she just stared at him blankly. "Look, you won't be alone everyday, I promise. The first week is going to be the hardest and then I won't have to be around nearly as often—or go in as early. We'll have more time to spend together."
"Don't worry about me. I'll find something to do."
"As long as it doesn't entail burning the house down." He left the room, laughing, as Peyton chucked a pillow at him.
—
After Lucas had left for work, Peyton had left the bed, donned her robe and made her way out onto the back porch. She slid onto one of the deck loungers, watching as the sun rose higher in the sky, turning the water a variety of colors. She loved watching the sunrise; it was something she never got around to doing in L.A.
An hour later, her internal clock started buzzing, encouraging her to get her ass moving and get to work. She took a quick shower, set up her laptop in the living room and started working. She went through a stack of demos, tossing eight, keeping four. She was in the process of gathering the contact information for the artists when her phone rang. It was her assistant. That was never a good sign, especially since she'd been gone all of a day.
"Hey Gigi. What's going on?" she answered, hoping that it wasn't anything dire..
"I didn't want to disturb you, Peyton, but Chris Keller is here and he's… well, he's causing a scene."
Peyton looked up at the ceiling, mouthing curse words. Why couldn't she ever have a vacation free of Chris Keller? "Of course he is," she muttered. "Put him on the phone," she ordered Gigi.
She listened as the phone was transferred. "Peyton. Babe. Where are you? I need you. Shouldn't you be here already?"
"I'm on vacation, Chris, and once again you're ruining it. What are you doing? Gigi said you're terrorizing her." Chris had been the reason she'd had to cut her Europe trip short. An ex-boyfriend (a fact that she didn't like to cop to), Chris had gotten kicked off his previous label and begged her to take him on. Against her better judgment, she had. Unfortunately, now she had to put up with his melodrama on a regular basis.
"Two words, Peyton. Justin and Timberlake. Get where I'm going with this?"
She huffed, getting impatient. "I never have any idea where you're going with anything. Just spill it, Keller. I don't have all day."
He grunted, then said, "The suits want me to dance, Peyton. Chris Keller don't dance."
"Of course Chris Keller don't dance. All Chris Keller does is complain," she scowled at him through the phone, wishing that she could reach through it and smack him upside the head like she usually did. It'd brighten her day.
"Hey, I resent that. I don't complain all the time," he insisted.
Peyton conceded. "No, no. You're right. If you complained all the time, there'd be no time to hit on a bevy of uninterested girls."
"Hey, I resent that, too. Besides I remember a time when you were interested."
"Please don't remind me. I was young and stupid… but mostly stupid. And drunk. Now, about the Dancing Keller business. What do you want me to do? If the suits want you to dance, you dance. Once they see that you have no rhythm, they'll hand you your guitar and show you the door."
"That sounds doable. See I knew I was making the right decision to sign with you. Even if you are verbally abusive."
"Goodbye Chris."
"Wait, wait. Where are you?"
"I'm on vacation. And you're spoiling it… for a second time!"
"Well, aren't you hormonal today," he scoffed.
"Don't you worry about my hormones. Do what the suits tell you to do, Chris, or you'll find yourself hunting for another label." Peyton snapped her phone shut, having had enough of Chris Keller. Whatever compelled her to date that man-boy, she'd never know. She took a deep, fortifying breath, then got back to work.
It was going to be a long day.