Chapter 2
The next night, during my actual shift, I was asked to take an order to the same table. Nicole and the other waitress working, Laura, had, coincidentally disappeared. They were there, but then vanished when Gus began to dish-up the order. Something fishy was definitely going on.
As I approached the table, I saw the same, familiar dark locks from the previous night. I quickly found Nicole and shot her a disapproving look. She just winked. So that was their plan. Typical. I should have known that it was something to do with a guy.
I did what I had done the night previously. I walked over to his table and placed the plate in front of him. He had been looking over some some sheet music so he didn't notice his surroundings. He jumped as I put the plate of food in front of him. He looked up at me and smiled. What a heartbreaking smile it was.
"Fancy meeting you here." He said, his smile falling back into his trademark smirk. I rolled my eyes at him.
"Yeah, funny that." He grinned at me. Can you say hot? I had to force myself not to swoon; that would not have been professional. "So, are you stalking me or something?"
"When I got back to my hotel room last night, I realised that I was a complete idiot. I didn't even get your name. How unfair is it that you know my full name and I don't even know your first name?"
"So, you came back here just to get my name?"
"That and I wanted to talk to you more." He said, looking down at his plate, obviously embarrassed for some reason.
I decided that I would be nice and obliged to sitting with him again. He looked back up at me.
"Mitchie." I stated.
"Mitchie what?" He said, confused.
"My name is Mitchie."
"That's a pretty name, what does it stand for?"
"Michelle, but if you ever call me that, we will have some serious issues." Why did my parents have to give me that stupid name? On the plus side, they never called me by my nickname; so people could that without unpleasant memories flooding back.
"May I ask why?" Why do people have to ask so many questions?
"It's not recommended, unless you want to lose your means of reproduction."
"Okay, I won't do that then. Can I ask you a question, on the grounds that you have to tell me, no matter what it is, but you don't have to tell me anything else about yourself after that?" He said. This was something which made me have an internal battle. Did I really want to tell him something about myself, which will most likely be about my past? The fact that he even cared enough to ask my permission to ask a question was quite something. It was one question, how bad could it be? My less precautious side won.
"What's your question?" He widened his eyes. He was obviously shocked that I would agree to it since he witnessed how guarded I could be.
"Why did you run away when you were seventeen?" Somehow, I knew he would ask something along those lines. I sighed before shuffling in my seat. I had to be as comfortable as I could possibly be whilst talking which made me so uncomfortable that it made me want to runaway again. And this was only talking about it.
"My parents were complete asses and the kids at school were no better. It was playing havoc on my emotions and after a while, I couldn't take it anymore; so I just picked up and left." I could not believe I was telling someone who was, essentially, a stranger about my painful past. I never told anyone that, apart from Nicole and Gus of course.
He looked at me differently than normal. It was like a mixture of understanding and confusion. Understanding because he knew more about my past. Confusion because I didn't go into great detail, so he must have wanted to know even more. I prayed that he wouldn't push it and try to get more out of me, because I would inevitably blow up and lose any trust I unintentionally put in him. And I'd had enough let downs in my life.
"I hate people." He stated softly, after a pause. I raised my eyebrows at him. "Not individuals, because a few people are alright and likeable; like you. People as a whole, however, are bastards. They're so self-righteous and selfish. No one seems to care about anyone but themselves. They don't care who they tear down on their way to the top. Everyone is so set on stardom; they don't realise until they get there that it isn't all it's cracked up to be. It's lonely and desolate and unless you're an incredibly strong person, it gets to you. Everyone in Hollywood has their own form of self-annihilation; some not so obvious, but it's still there. It's all a way of dealing with the constant pressure."
I was astounded that someone like him could say something so deep. He was definitely exceeding expectations.
"What do you do?" I asked quietly, afraid of whether he would blow up at me.
"I'm a drinker. I'm not an alcoholic," unlike my bitch of a mother. "I just drink when I'm having a bad day; when writing music doesn't help. It either numbs the pain or stops me feeling so... destitute." He amazed me. How could he be so open with me when he'd only met me less than twenty-four hours before?
"What's so bad about that? Everyone partakes in a bit of drinking these days."
"When I do drink I drink it in excess. And I'm not a very nice drunk." Now that explained it. He looked down, ashamed. "I know you've heard about my fits on video sets, who hasn't?"
"Yes, I've heard, but I never judged because I didn't know you."
"Thank you; you're the first person who hasn't. My fits are from the drinking. I try not to drink because I know it affects the people around me. When I have bad days though, I become almost reliant on it. I hate it. I want to be stronger than that."
"Oh, but you are." I said. "Or, at least you're almost there." He looked at me as if I were an idiot. "The fact that you're able to admit to it already shows that you're better than you think."
"Wow, I like talking to you; you make me feel much better about myself."
"The human mind intrigues me. I find it so interesting how people think. Me for instance: I have trust issues because of my past. I also find it hard to put my faith in someone because I tend to find people always throw it away. Anyway, I better get back to work; I think I just saw a mini bus pull up. It was nice talking to you again, Shane."
"You too, Mitchie." I got out of the booth. As I walked past him, he whispered my name and smiled. What the hell did that mean?
He was a lot more than I expected. I didn't think he would be so deep. I was amazed at how he was able to tap into his own feelings like that. That he knew there was more to him that just being depressed or whatever. He knew that there was a reason for it. He knew what the reason was. The fact that he knew this meant that he actually thought about it. In some ways he was the male version of me. But only in some ways.
AN: Yes, another chapter. And I'm already working on chapter 3. AA readers, feel free to kill me. This is really shaping up for me now. So what are your thoughts on Shane's little problem? I was debating between that and self harm, but I use that far too much in my fics. Nicole... hope you're looking forward to next chapter haha. R&R My loves because thanks to the 24 I got, I know I haven't disappointed with last chapter, so I need to know if I have for this one.
