Between a Rock

Prologue

A/N: WHATUP YO! \o/ It's my new story, BETWEEN A ROCK... as you've read in the title. If you haven't read Oops (either one, doesn't matter), you'll probably be a liiiittle lost, so I reccommend going back and reading that.

Warnings: As always, violence and a little bit of language, but nothing worse than that, promise.

Feel free to drop a comment or a vote (or a fan) if you want to. I love hearing from people and will gladly reply. :)

No other words? Kay! Enjoy, my friends! (Sorry it's so short. :P ))

                                                                         Prologue

                There are some things you should just leave alone. My kidnapping an international rock star and repeatedly putting his life in danger was not something I should've done. It was stupid. It was reckless. It was exhilarating and exhausting and excellent and every other word that starts with ex. As in, in the past. Done. Over with. Somehow my sister and I weren't in jail and somehow nobody was trippin' about it anymore. I guess four months worked wonders on forgiveness.

                I'd always been good at burying the hatchet-- or so I liked to think. Truth is, I would rather forget than forgive. The only problem with that? My past always had a way of catching up with me.

                                                                               ***

                People were staring at me.

                I was used to the stares by now, so they didn't surprise me. Even though my hair had been cut shorter and I'd gotten red highlights to at least differentiate myself from my sleek black curls, I must've had one of those faces. People were always recognizing me-- it probably had something to do with the picture the press had snagged of me as I was leaving the police station the last time I saw--

                Nope. I wasn't going there. Rocky the rock star was definitely in the past tense part of my life.

                As I handed the woman her coffee I gave her an awkward smile and hoped to God that she would leave immediately. Even half asleep she seemed to be taking a mental picture of my face and scanning it through her memory. I knew in a second she'd realize where she'd seen me before. And then a look of disgust would cross her expression and she'd leave as fast as humanly possible.

                It was the same everywhere.

                Today, though, it looked like luck was on my side. The woman gave a barely perceptible shrug, muttered a tired, "Thanks," and left without another word.

                Coming back to my old job was harder than I thought, but four months found me back in the familiar pattern: taking in long, complicated orders and getting coffee to grumpy workers in the morning. Personally, I didn't like coffee, Starbucks or not. It dragged your reflexes and made you jumpy at the same time-- and Lord knows I'm jumpy enough.

                "Damn, girl," Lucy said, sidling up next to me and shaking her head so black curls could fall into her eyes. "You've got it bad."

                Lucy Collins was my best friend who doubled as my boss. While no one at the Starbucks would come within a three foot radius of me, Lucy ignored the mistrust and re-hired me immediately. Even though we'd only been friends for five-- no, six-- years now, she was the first person to welcome me to Corpus Cristi, Texas and friendship instantly kindled. African-American and plump, Lucy was very blunt and when she talked her voice was rounded with a rich, husky tone such that most African-Americans had.