A/N: Hi y'all! Sorry for ending the last chapter abruptly and cryptically. I thought it would be better to leave all the finer details of Lance and London's interaction to chapter 4 where I could explore their interesting (and ironic) dynamic. I'm still not sure how many chapters this story will have in the end. I want to try and drag it out for as long as possible just to give the chapters a bit more kick. Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter 3 in the last few weeks. I think most people didn't realise that I had put chapter 3 online because other popular TSL like "Friendship Survives 2" etc also released their new chapters at the same time. I'm gonna have to plan my submission for this chapter a bit more strategically. Hope you all like it!
Maybe I'm suffering from an aneurism. Because I'm standing in the personnel locker room in the Tipton pointing a gun at a hotel employee. And not just any hotel employee, but Lance Fishman, the Tipton lifeguard and my ex-boyfriend. And he's just said the least credible thing that could ever come out of his mouth. He works for HALO, Headquarters of the American Logistics Operative. HALO, DEMON's sister network. Holy shit, he's one of them. Lance Fishman is a secret agent.
As comprehension sunk in, I do recall lowering my weapon ever so slightly. Lance hadn't moved or spoken since his little announcement. He continued staring at me, not caring that a gun was pointed right at him. "Lance, I…" I began to say, but was cut off abruptly. One minute we were alone, the next minute, a horde of persons were swarming the miniscule locker room. All I remember seeing were sweeps of black uniforms, badges flashing and guns pointed in every direction. Both Lance and I were brought to the ground instantaneously, my gun disposed of God knows where. Then both Lance and I were handcuffed and led away under the glare of the lobby's chandeliers.
The next thing I knew, Lance and I were seated next to one another (still handcuffed) in the back of an SUV flanked by four other HALO agents by the looks of it. Hardly anyone said a word on the ride up. I sat thinking for the longest time before I eventually broke the silence. "Son of a bitch Lance. Of all the organisations to work for, it had to be HALO. Small world," I commented wryly, an involuntary smile playing on my lips. "Small indeed," Lance agreed softly, a similar smile on his face. "You do realise I was this close to shooting you in the head right?" I demanded in a more serious tone. "You wouldn't have shot me London. Kicked my ass maybe, but not taken me off the planet altogether. I you hadn't believed me story, I would've just proved it." Lance responded confidently. "And how does one go about proving they're a secret agent, especially in such an elite division as HALO?" I demanded sceptically. "Look at the back of my head," Lance commanded softly. "I shifted into an awkward position so I could see better. There was a tattoo on the back of his neck, a figurine of sorts with an oval ring placed over his head. I'd heard of the infamous 'HALO tattoos', but never had the pleasure of seeing one up close before. "What, no barcode?" I teased lightly once I positioned myself on my seat again. "It helps people to remember who I work for," Lance answered with a slightly ominous undertone. "Sounds helpful. Maybe I should put a tattoo of an incubus on my ass." I chuckled heartily. "Very funny," Lance responded dryly, which had me laughing all the harder. "So boys, where are we heading to?" I inquired in a conversational tone. "HALO's detention," the agent at the steering wheel replied. "Excellent, this is going to be a fun day after all," I murmured sarcastically to myself.
HALO's detention centre, as it turned out, was only 5 miles east of DEMON's holding facilities. When we entered the premises, I experienced a moment of déjàvu. The premises were smaller than DEMON's. But the interior was almost exactly the same, but in a down scaled kind of way. All the while, Lance and I were led through the building in handcuffs. It was only once we entered a plush conference room were the handcuffs then removed. "Oh, so now you remove the handcuffs?" I asked waspishly of the agent beside me. "We wanted to make sure you didn't run away," he replied smoothly. "Droll, very droll." I muttered crisply. And that's when I noticed both Omar and Eleanor seated before me with what looked the two heads of HALO. "On second thoughts, I think I'd prefer the handcuffs," I reiterated. "Agent Oz, Agent L. Please have a seat," a woman seated next to Omar said in a booming voice. "Agent Oz?" I whispered with a slight smirk. "Oz is short for Oswald," Lance whispered back impatiently. "My alias is cooler than yours," I stated in hushed tones. "Sure. You picked the letter 'L' instead of spelling the remaining five letters? Snap." Lance muttered sarcastically, which made me smile. "Besides, Agent L was already taken," Lance quipped dryly.
"Agent L, welcome to HALO's detention centre. I am Lynette Beltran, the head of HALO. This is Salvador Arcadio, the head of our investigation division." Lynette introduced with a polite smile. "I do apologise for my agents having to escort you from your home. But it was imperative that you and Agent Oz were immediately brought to headquarters for debriefing," Lynette began solemnly. "Debriefing? So I'm not in trouble?" I asked excitedly. "Not this time. But you shouldn't have left your fellow agents at the scene." Omar answered in a stern voice. "I know sir, but I was pursuing an important lead. I thought that…Agent Oz… might be working for OPIUM." I replied seriously. "Agent L, we appreciate your honesty and tenacity. But the situation was under control. Agent S informed us a few minutes after the blockade on the highway that his operatives had been in position and retrieved the package." Eleanor explained simply. "And the package, I presume, is Reuben Marshall? Is he in custody?" I asked quietly. "Just downstairs," Salvador responded promptly. "So what happens now? Is HALO taking over the investigations?" I asked in bewilderment. "Not taking over, HALO and DEMON will be working together on this investigation." Eleanor replied seriously.
"Working together? But why the ambush on the freeway then? Agent J and M could've been seriously injured even though we're all working towards the same end," I demanded indignantly despite my better judgment. "Those measures may have been drastic Agent L, but they were necessary. They were done to protect Reuben Marshall's life. A bounty was put on his head." Salvador responded cryptically. "By whom?" I asked in alarm. "OPIUM. They've grown tired of DEMON infiltrating their organization one too many times. If we hadn't intervened when we did, OPIUM certainly would have. And Reuben Marshall would've disappeared off the face of the Earth. We need him alive." Lance answered gravely, speaking up for the first time in minutes. "So what happens now?" I asked softly. "We pool our resources together. Our first priority is to keep Marshall alive; he's our responsibility now. You and Agent Oz will be working very closely together in the next few weeks. We need to find out what OPIUM's next move will be." Lynette answered. "Is there anything else Agent L and I needed for?" Lance inquired politely. "Certainly. The two of you get the first crack at Marshall." Omar announced with a broad smile. For the first time in the entire day, I felt genuinely exhilarated. "Can I use my numb chucks?" I inquired sweetly.
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"Aw come on London, throw me a bone here!" Cody whined dramatically in my ear. "The answer is no in every language." I replied curtly. "But this is newsworthy London! You were handcuffed and escorted out of the Tipton in broad daylight!" Cody answered vehemently. It was Saturday afternoon and Cody and I had been having the same argument for the past 40 minutes. After my second debriefing at HALO's holding facilities. Lance and I had spent a gruelling, yet thoroughly enjoyable 2 hours interrogating Reuben Marshall. We hadn't made much progress, but I had a feeling Marshall would give us the information we needed in time. And while several eyewitnesses had seen me arrested at my abode, no one as yet knew more about it. I really am going to have to give my PR agent a raise.
"Forget it Cody! The day I give you an exclusive on the events of my personal life is the day that hell gets a cold!" I fumed. "You mean when hell freezes over," Cody corrected dryly. "Whatever. Neither one's going to change my mind on this." I countered carelessly. "Look Cody, I'm really not in the mood right now. I only came to the candy counter to get Ivana's health bars before Maddie ate them herself," I added in a huff. "But London, I'm the editor of my school paper! It's my responsibility to find newsworthy stories!" Cody pressed stubbornly. "You want me to give you an interview for your high school paper? What kind of pauper do you think I am?!" I retorted in scandalised tones. By this time, Maddie and Zack, who were standing by the candy counter, had abandoned their previous conversation and were now shamelessly eavesdropping on mine and Cody's discussion. Mr. Moseby and Esteban, too had stopped their pretence at hard work and had joined in the conversation. "Please London. My school paper may be of pauper dimensions. But I would handle your story with delicacy, accuracy and dignity, unlike those other blood-sucking tabloid excuses for print media. Plus, we're friends. Who better to paint you in a good light than someone who knows your every flaw?" Cody asked in an up-beat tone. "Alright, you talked me into it," I responded with an undertone of cunning in my voice.
Thankfully, I had made time and provision for such an event when a half wit's tale was essential. And so we all stood in a circle next to the candy counter while I told my tale. "It was exactly like I said it would be at Trés Bliss Maddie: people pushing and shoving, sales assistants running for cover, intercoms blaring from every corner. Naturally, my arch nemesis was there, Cassandra Von Dutch, the Manhattan socialite. The prized boots were equidistant from the both of us, in the centre of the boutique on a glass case. We both sprinted towards them at the same time. It wasn't a long battle; a few scratches, a black eye (for her) and some minor rips in fabric, I finally had the boots in my possession. Tossing my red American Express at Molly the store owner, I dove into my car with the boots in hand and rushed back to the Tipton." I began dramatically. "But if you came back right afterwards, then why not go straight to your suite? Why did you go to the personnel locker room first?" Cody asked shrewdly. "The only reason I went down there in the first place was to find Moseby, so that he could hide the boots for me. If Cassandra had followed me back to the Tipton right after, the first place she'd be sure to check was my suite. I couldn't hide the boots there." I replied indignantly. "But she did follow you here anyway London! Or how else did you get that graze on your cheek?" Maddie asked suspiciously.
"You're right about that Maddie. The little bitch accosted me right outside the locker room and shoved me to the ground. And then she still had the nerve to call the cops on me!" I exclaimed furiously. "That no-class-Gucci-wearing-heffer!" Esteban shot out vehemently, which made us all turn and stare at him. "Esteban!" Moseby exclaimed in alarm. "Sorry, but Ms. London pays my salary," Esteban answered by way of explanation. "And picks your wardrobe by the sounds of it," Zack retorted snidely. "Wait, why did they arrest Lance as well?" Zack asked curiously. "He had the boots in his hands, enough said." I said simply. "I'm astounded that she had you arrested when you paid for the boots. Oh, the things people will do for imported Italian suede," Moseby murmured sorrowfully. "Believe me, I know," he added when we all turned to stare at him. "Did you straighten it out with the police at the station?" Cody inquired. "Naturally, I called Molly and she showed the police who came to the boutique my receipt number purchased on my credit card. They released me immediately after." I replied smugly. "I can't believe you didn't press any charges against Cassandra Von Dutch, she sounds horrible." Maddie stated in disbelief. "She is, but I thought of the bigger picture. I had my boots and that's all that mattered," I answered seriously. "Man, all that hassle and drama for a pair of boots? That much fuss should be reserved solely for signed basketball sneakers by Carmello Anthony," Zack murmured matter-of-factly. "Or Diego Santiago, the famous matador," Esteban added with a solemn nod which had Zack rolling his eyes. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Lance exiting the personnel locker room in casual attire and a sports bag in hand.
"Would you all excuse me?" I asked abruptly and left them standing there. I jogged after Lance before he exited the revolving doors. I hadn't seen him in almost 24 hours inside the hotel. He was my last remaining link to the true events of the previous day as well as my double life. He turned around swiftly when I called his name. Something fluttered sharply in my stomach when he smiled warmly back at me, like he was really happy to see me. "Sleep well last night?" he asked politely. "Like a baby. You?" I asked almost shyly. "Man, I was exhausted. But in a good way," he agreed heartily. "You heading home?" I asked casually. "Yeah." "Do you have to head out right away?" "Well, I don't have anything urgent to do. Why?" "Do you want to just, I don't know, hang out with me for a while here at the hotel? I thought we could catch up." "Yeah, sure. I'd like that." Lance replied with silent understanding and we sauntered upstairs together.
I returned to the Tipton lobby several hours later, the entire room bathed in welcoming sunlight shining through the sky lights. It was 9am on Sunday morning. I had spent the entire night up on the Tipton roof by the pool talking to Lance. He had already left to go home around 6am. It was his day off, so I wouldn't be seeing him for another 24 hours, which felt like a long time already. I had spent the last 3 hours on the roof by myself, pensively reflecting on my conversation with Lance. Then out of nowhere, a smile crept onto my face as I thought back to the moments in the conversation where Lance had made me laugh uncontrollably. We had talked about so many things, particularly concerning our respective secret lives: our best missions, our worst missions, most difficult criminals to apprehend, most annoying agents in the field we'd ever encountered. I was amazed by how our separate recollections had constantly overlapped, whether it was having travelled to the same places or having met the same people in our profession. And yet, this was the first time our paths had actually crossed on a professional basis. Lance admitted that he'd known for some time that I worked for DEMON which initially annoyed me. But somehow he managed to divert my attention by sharing yet another hilarious adventure of his in the field which had me in stitches seconds later.
I'd honestly forgotten just how easy and comfortable it was to talk to Lance after all this time. It was as if all the years apart had vanished in the space of a few hours. Sure, I'd tried to keep things casual and normal after the break up, but even that had felt forced and strained. Besides dating, Lance and I had actually been friends. And we had lost that too after we broke up. But now…something had definitely changed, for the better I hoped. "Boy, you're a million miles away right?" a voice asked me from behind. In my pensive state of mind, I hadn't realised that I had approached the candy counter. It looked like Maddie had just clocked in for her shift and was now eyeing me with unrestrained curiosity. "Hardly, I'm right on my doorstep." I responded with a teasing chuckle. "You've been at the Tipton the entire time?" Maddie inquired curiously. "Well of course I was. Where else would I be?" I asked innocently. "Well, after you took off with Lance yesterday, I envisioned you'd be halfway to Vegas by now." Maddie teased with a sly grin. "Oh Maddie, you and your ways." I quipped in what I hoped was a casual brush off as I took a seat on my favourite recliner.
"So, don't leave me hanging me here London. What happened with Lance?" Maddie pressed urgently, coming to stand beside me. "Nothing happened with Lance Maddie. We just talked." I explained calmly. "You talked this entire time?" Maddie demanded, a knowing look in her eye. "Of course not. Lance left a few hours ago. I've been on the roof by myself." "What were you doing on the roof this whole time?" "Just thinking mostly." "About what?" "Just the past." "You and Lance seem to be getting along again all of a sudden." "It hasn't been all of a sudden Maddie. I don't know, we've been talking a lot lately. It's been nice, comfortable like old times." "That's great London. It's good to see you so happy again." Maddie answered sincerely. I was so wrapped up in my own fuzzy feelings about Lance that I nearly missed the abrupt change in her tone with her next words.
"Just be careful London." "Huh?" I asked quizzically, snapping out of my reverie. "What do you mean?" I inquired in a bewildered tone. "Look London, don't take this the wrong way. I really am glad that you and Lance are getting along again. But he has hurt you in the past before London. I just don't want you to get your hopes up again with him." Maddie elaborated in a serious tone. "Oh Maddie, that's so sweet of you to be concerned about me. But I'm okay, really. I'm not looking to get back together with Lance. It's just been nice talking to him lately, that's all." I countered in a would-be-casual voice, astutely ignoring the throbbing tempo of my heart beat. "Okay London, if you're sure." Maddie stated uncertainly. "I'm sure Maddie." I responded promptly, smiling broadly. As Maddie returned to the candy counter, I realised that my heart rate was accelerating with each passing second. Lies, lies, lies. Lies for my daily survival in my line of work. Lies to keep my severed heart intact. Now I had a third lie to coax myself into. I am not in love with Lance Fishman…
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This third lie was making my life exceedingly complicated, and I didn't care. Everyone and everything passed in a blur around me. I was more than willing to throw away every last shred of dignity and sanity I had judiciously stored up in all this time on a crazy whim. And it was all because of Lance. It was Monday morning and I was dwelling on a conversation we'd had on the phone the night before. I can't even remember the entire conversation, just the last few minutes of it. Just when my self-confidence and hope was waning at the thought of him hanging up the phone, Lance asked me out to dinner this following Thursday evening. I felt completely nauseated with exhilaration and it was starting to show. Eleanor decided to burst my bubble in the middle of our meeting at DEMON's headquarters. "London, are you even listening to me?" Eleanor demanded impatiently, hands on her hips. "Huh?" I asked stupidly. "Unbelievable London. I'm trying to outline the preliminaries for DEMON and HALO's surveillance for the week and your head's in the clouds." Eleanor said reproachfully while frowning. "Well I thought that would be a good thing since we're working with HALO. Get it, head in the clouds?" I teased with a wink. When Eleanor continued to stare at me with an 'I'm not amused' expression, I decided to quit fooling around. "Aw come on Eleanor, lighten up. We've gone through this a hundred times already. I know what to do." I countered on a more serious note. "Are you sure you're up for this London? I understand if you working in close proximity with an ex-boyfriend is too difficult." Eleanor countered with a touch more sensitivity. "Oh no, no Eleanor. Everything's fine with Lance and I. Totally fine, we're tight, like Sodom and Gomorrah." "Somehow I get the feeling there're more to this story." "Well if you must know, Lance asked me out to dinner on Thursday evening." I answered in what I hoped was a nonchalant manner. "Dinner? Like a date?" Eleanor inquired uneasily. "No, not like a date Eleanor. Can't two agents out in the field go out for dinner together without arousing suspicion?" I demanded in a defensive tone. "Certainly, but not when they were previously involved." "Sure they can. I'll just keep a two-foot distance at all times. He can still pass the bread rolls to me though right?" I asked facetiously. "Seriously London. I don't think this is a good idea." "Eleanor, you worry too much. It's just dinner." "London, I think you should be careful with Agent Oz." Eleanor stated cryptically.
There it was again, that damn word 'careful'. What was with everybody of late? Am I missing something vital here? "Okay Eleanor, what's going on? Why are you warning me about Lance all of a sudden?" I urged. Did I just imagine that Eleanor looked slightly uncomfortable by my question? "There's something you're not telling me," I stated pointedly while looking her in the eyes. "London, if there's anything that I've taught you, it's this. Trust someone only as far as you can throw them. Don't let your guard down." Eleanor responded in that same bland tone with its undercurrent of a very different meaning. "Okay, if you're done reading Fortune Cookies for the Insane, I've got paper work to do Eleanor." I answered by way of greeting to let her know that the conversation was over.
Needless to say, Eleanor's words continued to needle me for the rest of the week. I hated the fact that everyone seemed to bagging on mine and Lance's re-acquaintance. Why couldn't they just let me be? When I was consumed with insurmountable grief over Brandy's death, no one seemed to give a shit then. Now that I'm actually happy for a change, now everyone's got a ginormous stick stuffed up their asses. All this negativity nearly ruined my date prep time which involved choosing the best outfit and ensembles. I said it almost killed my buzz. The truth was that I was still looking forward to Thursday and still treating it as a date. Judging from the slight uneasy tenor of Lance's voice when he'd first asked me out, I got the feeling he was just as nervous as I was about this.
On the night in question, I changed my attire at least 5 times, all the while ignoring the beeping of my cellphone. I couldn't bear to talk to anyone beforehand, especially my girlfriends. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I might just puke. Lance and I had agreed to meet at 8pm at Des Champs, an upmarket French restaurant downtown which happened to be one of my favourites. He still remembered after all this time. I could've opted for a quiet evening at the Tipton restaurant, but I didn't want any eavesdroppers. I finally settled for a sea green dress with a ribbed backline which went down to just above my knees. I wore my hair down in wavy curls with an array of gold jewellery, earrings and matching stiletto heels.
My stroll to my limo was slightly uneven as I tried to concentrate on walking straight. I gratefully climbed into the back seat while the footman held the door open for me. I wound my black shawl tightly around my shoulders, the city lights of Boston glittering across my face as we drove on. It wasn't long before yet another footman was opening the car door open for me as I stood outside Des Champs. The restaurant was crowded, the usual eyes fastened on me as I walked over to the maître d'. "Reservation for Mr. Lance Fishman and Ms. London Tipton?" I inquired politely while taking in my surroundings. "Ms. Tipton, your table is ready. Mr. Fishman has already been seated. Please follow me," the maître d' gestured with his hand in a drawling French accent as we walked towards the corner of the restaurant. Sure enough, Lance was already seated at a table in a private booth. He rose obligingly from his chair and I repressed a smile. He looked exceedingly handsome in a black tailored tuxedo and a white buttoned down shirt subtly concealed under his dinner jacket and black loafers. His hair was gelled back for the occasion.
It reminded me of the first dinner party we attended together when Carey and Moseby had tried to groom Lance so he'd fit in with my friends. I remembered too how I had attended the same party wearing a one-piece bathing suit, a plastic pool ring around my waist and beach thongs when I realised that I liked Lance just the way he was: water-loving, slow-drawling, IQ-lacking Lance Oswald Fishman. Lance smiled broadly when I stood in front of him. "Ms. Tipton, what an unexpected pleasure," he greeted, bringing my hand up slightly and grazing it with his lips. "The pleasure's all mine Mr. Fishman," I greeted back demurely, enjoying this little game. "You look positively ravishing tonight." Lance stated in a debonair voice while he opened up my chair for me. "Thank you. You clean up pretty well too." I replied with a smirk. "New tux?" I asked curiously. "Nah, just your old run-of-the-mill Cartier tailored suit." Lance teased. This made me laugh all the more as the night finally began.
Dinner was quite an enjoyable affair. Both Lance and I indulged ourselves on a liberal array of delicious French entrées, main courses and desserts. The conversation was both light and jovial throughout. There were times when I caught Lance wearing an expression consumed with repressed tension and stress. But he always lightened the mood with a well-placed joke. I found myself staring at the centre of the ballroom where several couples were now swaying to and fro while the band slowed down the tempo of the music. "Would you like to dance?" Lance asked me unexpectedly. "I'd love to," I answered readily, feeling the tiniest of thrills when he took my hand in his and led me onto the floor.
I'd forgotten just how good a dancer he was, how easy it was for me to let him take control of my body. And he did it so effortlessly, keeping his right hand firmly on the small of my back and his left hand in mine, his eyes locked on mine throughout. I felt silently exhilarated on those occasions when he twirled me around and dipped me, his lips just millimetres from the base of my neck. I was in my own private purgatory and I loved every minute of it. "I'm having a really great time tonight Lance. I'm glad we could have some private time away from the Tipton and work," I murmured softly while burying my cheek into his chest while we continued swaying. I distinctly recall Lance's breath hitch in his throat at my movement and his heart rate increased rapidly. I was getting to him too, perfect. And then I heard him sigh audibly. "What's wrong?" I questioned in a concerned voice, my cheek never leaving his chest all the while. "London, there's something that I have to tell you," he began slowly.
"I haven't been completely honest with you. My first assignment as a HALO agent wasn't in the Czech Republic trying to infiltrate a Middle Eastern terrorist group in hiding. I was in position when I was called upon, right here in Boston, right in the Tipton." Lance began solemnly. "London, do you remember in 2007 when your father was nearly arrested?" "Remember? How could I forget? Daddy was trying to buy out the Shangri La Hotel at the time. The authorities thought he was involved in a money-laundering scam. There were feds all over the place, tapping his phone lines, following him around the Tipton, following me around school. It was a nightmare." I answered warily. "Anyway, HALO was chiefly involved in the investigation at the time. Several agents were trailing your father and trying to get access to his accounts to look for any discrepancies. But they weren't making any progress. In June of that year, we got a helpful tip-off from a maid who worked in the Tipton. She claimed that she'd seen your father hiding what looked like important documentation in one of the suites at the hotel. We guessed that it was his missing accounts." Lance continued gravely. Somehow I guessed which suite he was referring to. "Daddy hid his books in my suite? So you were assigned to steal them?" I pressed anxiously. And that's when his eyes grew even wearier.
"Not exactly. We were only going on a hunch. Lynette needed more proof before we honed in on your father. So besides acting as a lookout at the Tipton, I was also given an additional assignment. I had to get close to someone whom your father was intimately acquainted with, someone who may have known more details about his business ventures." Lance concluded hesitantly. And that's when it hit me like a ton of bricks. "You were assigned to get close to me, to get to the files." I stated in a dull tone, finally looking up at him. "But you broke up with me, for that, for that mermaid!" I spluttered, finally realising that I was indeed angry. "It was all a rouse. Arianna (another HALO agent) agreed to play the role of the mermaid, I mean other woman. Once HALO became aware of your father's innocence, we retreated. I was instructed to end things with you," Lance explained quietly.
The music was still playing in the background, but Lance and I were now standing a few inches apart, staring at each other steadily. "Well Lance Fishman, I underestimated you. You're a better actor than what I gave you credit for." I stated morosely, a smile plastered on my face. "London," "No I mean it. It's a pity you had to stop the charade when you did. A few extra months and you could've gotten a raise for trying to seduce me." I added coldly. "It wasn't like that London." Lance protested feebly, knowing that he'd already lost me. "Sure it was. All in a day's work right Agent Casanova?" I spat before turning away from him. "Don't touch me!" I yelled at him when he grabbed my arm. "You bastard. Stay away from me." I added before fleeing the restaurant, avoiding the same eyes watching my retreating figure.
Thankfully, the limo was still outside. I dove gratefully into it. "Take me back to the Tipton," I instructed tersely. "Certainly Ms. Tipton," my driver answered, avoiding my eyes too. I tried to ignore that I was shaking from head to toe. I knew that I wouldn't get any sleep tonight and my heart plummeted at the thought. I remember thinking ruefully that I'd have to take the freight elevator up to my suite. My tear-stained face would be too much of a giveaway under the lobby's interrogating glare.
A/N: Shoo, it took me forever to finish this. Hopefully, everyone will see the new chapter before 'Friendship Survives 2' returns with yet another enthralling chapter ; ) I took the 'Angels with Dirty Faces' title from the Home Alone series, good times. I just love it when the guy accuses his girlfriend of 'schmooching wid my brudder' before he shoots up the room. I think the Sugababes have a song by the same title, but I'm not sure. I thought the title was appropriate for Lance's turn-coat ways. Look forward to more drama and fast-paced action (I hope). Cheerio!