Haven't updated in a while, it's been crazy. But I'm off for the summer now, so I can update again. Thanks as always the amazing LilBadger101, you rock!
"It's not here." she said.
But Greg wasn't listening. He was too busy watching the rapidly approaching black van. Brooke followed his gaze and gasped.
"That doesn't look like the sort of van friendly people would own." she whispered.
"Quick!" Gerg yelled, pulling her down behind the bins.
"Deja vu." he remarked, and she stiffled a giggle as they heard the van pull up and the soor open. Then there were footsteps.
"These footprints weren't here yesterday." A mans voice said.
"Looks like a guy and a girl. Fresh." another man added.
"Let's follow them." the first guy replied.
Greg and Brooke looked at each other, their eyes widening. This was bad.
They held their breath but within a few seconds, they heard breathing just beside them.
"You two again?" one of the men laughed.
They looked up.
"Scared you." the other added.
They breathed mutual sighs of relief. It was just the CSIs.
"That's a pretty menacing van." Greg told the two guys.
"The Denali? Standard issue, we all have them."
"Freaked us out." Brooke shivered.
"What are you two doing back here?"
"Lost my keycard here last night." Greg explained.
"Did you find it?"
"Unfortunately not."
"That sucks."
"How's the case?" Greg asked them.
"Not very good. Came back here to see if we'd missed anything but I doubt we're gonna get anywhere."
"We should probably be going. Come on Greg." Brooke cut them off.
"Alright. Bye. Goodluck." Greg yelled ad she dragged him away.
"Told you." she whispered to him.
It was later that night, when Greg and Brooke had done some more shopping and decorating and were at a pizza place they'd discovered when Brooke brought it up again.
"Told you they wouldn't solve it."
"It's been less than twenty four hours. Give them time."
"They aren't going to solve it."
"Wait and see."
"What do you want to do tonight?"
"I feel like going out."
"Except for the fact that we know nobody in this city."
"Yeah, clubs are no fun with just two people."
"We need to make more friends."
"I know how."
Greg pointed towards a sign outside the posh hotel they were passing. MASKED BALL FOR MEMBERS OF NEW YORK CHORAL SOCIETY TONIGHT 8PM.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"I've always wanted to go to a masked ball."
"Do you know who the New York Choral Society are? Only one of the most prestigious groups in this whole..."
"They don't sound like a barrel of laughs. We'll have to fix that."
"We're not in the choral society Greg!"
"We can sort that out."
"I didn't exactly bring any ball clothes. Or masks. And The ball starts at eight. It's..." she checked her watch "seven twenty two."
"Then we don't have much time. Come on." He took her by the hand and dragged her down the busy new york street, dodging several angry people moving in different directions and several yellow taxis. She squealed as he tugged her around corners and into crowded lanes. Finally, he pulled her into a small, quiet boutique. An old Italian woman sat behind the desk, surrounded by rackfulls of dresses.
"Questa ragazza ha bisogno di un abito da ballo. Tornerò per lei in 20 minuti." He pressed a wad of cash into her hand. "Tenga il resto." Then, he was gone,
He was back in nineteen minutes, still wearing his jeans and t-shirt. By then, Brooke was wearing a long coral dress, gathered at the top with a floaty skirt. He lifted her up onto the counter and slipped a pair of silver heels onto her feet.
"Greg..." she began, but he grabbed her by the hand and quickly pulled her back out onto the street. He yelled "Grazie!" as the door slammed behind them. It was seven forty three by then. Brooke began to protest, but Greg whirled her into an alleyway so quickly that she had the breath knocked out of her. He led her through a door into a beauty salon, where there were already several people waiting for her.
"Alright Brooke this is Sandra, she's going to be doing your nails, Sasha will do your make-up and Paulo will do your hair. Be back for you in... twelve minutes."
And he was gone again. Brooke sighed, and then she was whisked away by the three beauticians.
When he returned, it was seven fifty five.
"Brooke, you look beautiful." he told her. "You guys did a great job." he told the others. Then, he offered her one of the two masks he was holding, the one in coral to match her dress. They left again. They were nearly back at the hotel when Brooke realised something.
"Greg! You're still in your jeans."
"Oh damn." he cursed. "Detour."
He pulled her quickly into a department store. They ran along together for a while, then she lost him behind a rack of ties.
"Greg?" she called out.
"Yes?" he asked, emerging from the checkout desk dressed in a full tuxedo.
"You are unbelievable." she laughed.
"Well you better believe it, we're going to that ball."
He checked his watch, it was seven fifty nine. They were going to make it.
They ran along the main street together, dodging cars, people, bikes and several buses. They slipped their masks on as they ran into the foyer of the hotel.
"Mr and Mrs Fradeline." Greg told the lady at the table. She nodded at them and opened the door. Greg checked his watch. One minute past eight.
"How did you do it?" Brooke asked him.
"Easy. Saw that dress place befor when we were walking, dropped you off, found a beauty salon place and booked stuff, got you some shoes, bought some masks, snuck into the hotel, "borrowed" a jacket from the concierge guy, answered the phone loads of times til I got a cancellation for the ball. Then I took their names but didn't tell the lady letting people into the ball. Easy."
"You speak Italian?"
"A little. I had an Italian girlfriend once."
"Course you did. These old dudes don't look like much fun."
"Truth or dare?"
"Sure."
"Okay Brooke, truth or dare?"
"Dare."
"Dare you to go pour some of this in the punch bowl." Greg produced a bottle of Smirnoff vodka from his trouser pocket.
"Greg!"
"Don't get caught." he told her. She giggled and took the bottle from him. She returned a minute later, laughing hysetrically.
"Doen. Your go. Truth or dare?"
"Dare."
"Dare you to find a way to switch the music, there's a party playlist on my ipod."
"If that guy playing the "fantastic" music on the piano for us has much more of your punch he's gonna be out pretty soon. I'm going for it."
"Much better." she smiled when he came back, rocking out to LMFAO.
"Want to dance?"
"Of course."
They danced and laughed, then danced some more. They both decided to go out and try and find somebody under 25 to be friends with. Brooke went over to the bar and looked around for a few minutes. She couldn't find anybody her age, so she went back to look for Greg. She couldn't have been more than five minutes. But when she returned Greg had some girl pushed up against the wall against the bar, with her tongue stuck down his throat. Brooke was surprised at how much this hurt. Why should it matter to her what Greg did?
She was falling for him. She was falling for Greg Sanders. This was not good. Greg stumbled over to her about half an hour later, when the girl had been escorted to the dancefloor by her elderly parents who turned out to be the presidents of the society.
"Broooooooooke..." he slurred, taking her hands and twirling her around.
"Oh Gregory." she sighed, as he stopped and staggered around dizzily.
"Brookie." he chuckled.
"Greggie. Time to get you back to the hotel."
"Alright." he mumbled, allowing her to lead him out.
They got back to the hotel and she helped him up the stairs as he babbled non stop about penguins.
"What's amazing is, the mothers go on that big long trip to get food and all the fathers stay together to mind the eggs. And when it gets really cold they all huddle in together and take turns going in the middle and..."
Brooke stiffled a laugh as she led him down the hall, pulling him away when he decided to try and use his credit card to open the door to somebody elses room.
"Here you go Greg." she smiled, opening the door to his room.
He laughed and pulled her in with him.
"Greg, it's late, you need to go to bed."
"Still trying to get me into bed Brooke?"
He pushed her up against the closet and kissed her.
Once she got over the initial shock, Brooke found herself enjoying it. She could taste vodka and cherry menthol chewing gum as he deepended the kiss. This was Greg. And he was very drunk. This was not a good idea. She broke away and he moaned at the loss of contact.
"Come backkkk..." he whimpered.
Brooke looked into his eyes as he trapped her againt the closet with one arm on either side of her. Puppy dog eyes. It would take a lot more then that to convince her. She ducked under his arms and freed herself. But before she even had time to catch her breath he had pulled her down onto the bed with him. She opened her mouth to protest but he kissed her again, and she found herself melting beneth his touch. Her hands fell loosely around his neck and he rolled over onto her, never breaking contact.
No. This was not happening. Not even for Greg Sanders.
"Greg, I gotta go."
"No you don't. Stay."
"No Greg. Goodnight."
When Greg woke up the nest morning with a pounding headache, still wearing his tuxedo the last thing he would remember would be playing truth or dare with Brooke. The last thing she would remember is the taste of his lips and the regret she felt when she left him on the bed, looking confused, hurt and very drunk. It was the firrst time she had seen him completely lost like that. His confidence and natural zest with life was gone, and he was just a very drunk, confused guy. He would appear at her door the next morning just out of the shower with a towel wrapped arund his waist, asking what happened. She would tell him that he got drunk and they went home. She had delivered him to his room. She would leave out the part about the girl at the ball, and what had happened between them. Then, he would complain about his headache and they would go out to get coffee and aspirin. Their ease with conversation would return, and soon they would appear to be back to normal. But for Brooke, it would never be quite the same again. She wouldn't be able to hear his voice without remembering him whispering her name. She wouldn't be able to look into his eyes without remembering how they had begged her to stay. She wouldn't be able to see his face without remembering the taste of him. She wouldn't be able to think of him without wondering what might have been.
And what might never be again. Because earlier in the day, Greg and Brooke had gotten involved in something they shouldn't have. It was something dangerous, something bigger than anything they were used to back at home. And it was coming.