"Well, for starters, the plane smelled like a fast food joint, old man, and airplane, and of course, I was stuck with the new born baby sitting directly behind me," Brooke complained into the telephone. The Blackberry was perched between her shoulder and her ear while her hands struggled to keep a firm grip on the four pieces of luggage she had brought with her.
"Did anything good happen on the plane?" Haley teased.
"Well… I finally got to see the rerun of the Tila finale. And stop rolling your eyes at me! Even if I am cross the country, I can hear it! Don't be bitter, Hales. I know you're a Danny fan, but c'mon… Bobby's hot!"
The warm California air swept past her as she stepped out of LAX. "Okay fine, I admit it, but don't tell Nathan," Haley whispered and once again, Brooke could hear her roll her eyes.
"That would be a hot threesome…" Brooke mused. "But my limo's here. Mommy and daddy are so sweet with these amenities. Maybe they even put life-sized cardboard cut-outs of themselves to keep me company!"
Haley chuckled knowing that the Davis family would pull something like that. "Be good, Brookie!"
"As long as you promise to be bad," she smirked into the phone.
"I'll try my best to fulfill your duties while you're away. Love you," and with a click, Haley's line went dead.
She approached the limo to see a good looking man, dressed in full black standing in front of the passenger door, cigarette in his hand.
"Well, you must be Brooke," he said before taking a final puff. He threw the cigarette below his foot and stepped on it to put it out. He leaned back up against the limo, a hand tucked into each of his pockets. She noticed how much younger he looked up close. She also couldn't help but notice how un-cookie-cutter he seemed. Most of her parents' past drivers wore uniforms and hats, and were around fifty years old. Seeing the boy before her, employed by Victoria and Maxwell Davis was definitely weird, considering that they would probably slit their wrists on the spot if she had brought someone home who looked like this guy. They were more into the pastel-polo-shirt-and-khaki-pants type. His black t-shirt hugged his arms in a way that showed off his muscular frame and an undistinguishable tattoo peeked out from under his left sleeve. His dark jeans hung loosely on him, as if they belonged to someone slightly larger. His blonde hair was messy and his blue eyes were piercing. Good looking was an understatement.
"That's me," she said with a smile. "And you are…?"
"Your driver actually," he stated as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"My parents picked you to be their new driver?" she said, her jaw dropping slightly.
He chuckled lightly, not offended by the comment at all. "Not exactly. Your parents aren't the type to pick a guy like me to work for them, as I'm sure you know. But my dad is a good friend of theirs… I got myself into a little trouble a few months back. This is how I'm compensating my family."
"By working for mine?" she asked, utterly confused.
"It's a long story."
"And an even longer car ride. And even heavier luggage," she said, nodding toward the large Louis Vuitton suitcases that sat besides her on the curb.
"Yes, Miss Davis," the boy, whose name Brooke still hadn't asked for, stated. He rolled his eyes playfully as he picked up the bags and loaded them into the trunk. After a few moments of rearranging the luggage so that it all fit, he walked toward the front of the car, opening the back of the limo for Brooke.
"No, actually," she said before closing the door. "I'm not that type of girl. Plus, you owe me a story." With that, she stepped into the passenger seat with a small, playful wink and shut the door behind her.
The boy smiled at her as he walked around the front of the limo to his side of the car. He settled into the seat and turned on the ignition.
"So, I still haven't gotten your name, Mr. Rebel Turned Driver," Brooke stated as they pulled out of the airport.
He turned to her, darting his eyes between her and the road. "It's Lucas. Lucas Scott."
Coming to California wasn't really to see her parents. Or at least that's what she tried to convince herself. She had a two week vacation from school, and junior year had proven to be a full out bitch to say the least. And Brooke was not one who would be occupied staying in boring little Tree Hill for two full weeks, whether Haley and Rachel were there or not. C'mon, a girl who works hard has to play harder right? She needed time alone, time to unwind and party. She had SATs in a month, so preparing for those was far from a walk through the park. And on top of that, the fashion show she and Haley had been planning for their school for the past nine months had just taken place, so that had provided for more stress. On top of the usual homework, cheerleading practice, on top of her crazy social schedule and of course, the average high school drama, she needed a break. She hadn't even had time to worry about boys (in more than a one-night-stand way) in the past months due to her hectic schedule.
But Brooke was a girl that all boys wanted. She was poised, she was confident, she was smart and she was beautiful. Not to mention that she had an amazing body and loved to party. Although having boys always vying for your attention was nice, finding a nice one had proven to be a challenge since she had discovered most guys would do and say anything to get into her pants. She was a flirt and she did hook up with guys who she didn't have a future or past with, but that didn't mean she was a slut. That just meant she was young and adventurous. Or drunk.
She loved to party, but she wasn't the type to pass out on the floor halfway through the night. She would dance and laugh, but she would always be able to compose herself at the drop of the hat… on most nights. Correction: on some nights.
She had a wild side only because she had no one around to tame her. With her parents in California since she was fourteen and nannies officially out of the picture, she was forced to raise herself. Of course, Haley's parents were always there to help, but that didn't always cut it. However, the fact that for the most part, she was perfect, proved that you didn't have to turn out fucked up due to a fucked up circumstance.
You create your own destiny, right?
"So, what kind of trouble did you get in to land you with such a glamorous job, Lucas Scott?" Brooke asked with a small smile playing on her lips. She kept her eyes focused on the road, avoiding eye contact with the boy sitting besides her. She liked his name. It rolled right off her tongue. Lucas Scott.
"It's complicated…" he said, clearly trying to avoid the subject. She saw him furrow his eyebrows out of the corner of her eye, but she refused to let him get out of telling her how he had gotten here.
"Well, I like complication. So, spill."
He cleared his throat before speaking again. "I've been getting into trouble ever since I was in junior high…." he started.
She turned toward him, her face placid. "What kind of trouble?"
Lucas took his right hand off the wheel for a moment and scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Initially fighting… then drinking… and then drugs…"
She nodded for him to continue, but her face was emotionless. She had met her fair share of so called "fuck-ups" and nothing Lucas said could faze her.
"It got really bad," he continued. "So my parents sent me to a three month rehab program and then this really private, really expensive boarding school in Arizona… They wanted me to go to military school, but I talked them out of it…"
"How bad is 'bad?'" she asked skeptically. Sure, she'd seen boys with drug problems and she'd seen boys fight, but rehab and boarding school were something new.
"Bad as in me getting stabbed millimeters away from my right kidney during a fight at this party," he confessed. "And I was so high I didn't even feel it."
She put her hand over her mouth in shock not expecting bad to be that bad. "What were you fighting over?"
He smirked slightly trying to ease the tension. "A girl."
She allowed herself to snicker slightly. "Boy gets stabbed for girl. Now that's love," she commented before turning her attention back to the road. They were getting closer to the house, she noticed. She recognized the houses on this block.
"Yeah, but what about you? What's your secret?"
"I'm a dull, dull girl compared to you."
"You can't be that boring when you look like that," he said with a smirk as they pulled into the driveway.
Brooke felt her cheeks flame slightly as she observed the house from the passenger seat. Nothing had changed. There were no "Welcome Back Brooke!" banners or balloons. Just primly cut hedges and an elaborately immaculate landscaping job.
They pulled up the house, her door directly across from the house's front door. She opened the door excitedly and stepped into the warm Californian sun. She heard Lucas's door open behind her. She headed toward the door while he opened up the trunk and unloaded her luggage.
The door was unlocked, so she walked in.
"I'm here!" she announced happily. She walked toward the kitchen, assuming her parents would be waiting for her there.
Except, they weren't there. Instead, there was a note left on the counter.
Hi darling. Welcome back. Your father had an important business emergency. We'll be back in a few days. Everything's at your disposal. Tell Rosalita to cook for you whenever you want to eat at home. Lucas will drive you wherever you need if you don't feel like driving. Be careful with him, Brooke.
Mommy & Daddy
She felt the tears well up in her eyes momentarily before she choked them back.
"Well, it's good to know my parents aren't the only ones who think that nice stationary and a neatly written letter counts as love," Lucas commented from behind her. She rubbed her eyes of their stray tears quickly before turning to face him.
"Welcome to my life since I was born," she smiled, trying to conceal her disappointment.
She held the letter in her hand tightly, realizing what it said regarding Lucas. Be careful with him.
She looked back up at him, unsure of if she should bring it up.
"What's the face for?" he asked after a moment.
"According to Victoria Davis, I should be careful with you."
He smirked and shrugged easily as he headed toward the refrigerator. "Well, Victoria Davis is a smart woman. I'm trouble," he said before taking a swig of the beer he had just retrieved.