Scattered - Tangled series (Overprotective famous brothers)

Starting off

ALISHA

Bracing myself for the miniature attack that I was gonna face in just moments, I made sure I was right behind one of the bodyguards who had the duty of stalking…err…guarding me tonight. As soon as we stepped out of the doors, questions like arrows were shot from their bows, meant to pierce my temper and get a million dollar shot. Ok, maybe not million, but a hundreds of thousands. Believe me, there are publications ready to pay that amount of money for a single shot. That may possibly ruin all our lives.

 “Please, to your left!”

“A smile here!”

“Who is your favorite brother, Alisha?”

“Do you get spanked?”

“Whom are you dating?”

“Here, please, towards the right!”

Looking down and trying my best to not punch the guy who asked the spanking question, I got into the Rolls Royce Phantom with my sister in law Malaika and nephew Arhaan. Poor baby, who was hardly over one year old was still shielding his delicate blue eyes from the flashes. Malaika was holding him close by, to comfort him. Just as the security of the restaurant tried to make way for us, I looked up at the people banging the windows to get other couple of shots. It sure was overwhelming for me, but that innocent soul was petrified.

I didn’t even deserve the amount of attention I got. Yes well, I happened to be the adopted sister of three overprotective brothers- Salman, Arbaaz and Sohail. And my eldest brother was like the next Brad Pitt of the entire world. No kidding. Yeah, Arbaaz and Sohail had their fair share of achievements, being successful directors, actors and producers. Even they deserved the fame. Malaika, Arbaaz’s wife, was a supermodel, VJ, and an actor. Even she deserved the fame.

But not me. I was just a gymnast, who was by no means gonna try her luck in movies for a good time. From when I could remember, I just wanted to be an Olympian, not an actor, not a singer. Ok fine, maybe singer was a good idea, but I didn’t think I could handle it now. Maybe when I was older, and I had Olympics behind me.

Getting down at our Beverly Hills home, I volunteered to carry the now asleep Arhaan to his room. Malaika was downright drained; the work load was getting the best of her today.

Changing into my boxers and baggy tee, I climbed into my own bed. Shifting in my bed for a good half an hour, I finally gave up and got my laptop out. I had to recheck. It couldn’t be true.

But it was. The murders got away with the easiest sentence possible.

Almost two years from now, we had managed to uncover an entire gang of hideous creatures that kidnapped, murdered and sold girls. Somehow, I was connected to it- the burn mark on my left wrist and the flashbacks were evidence. We still didn’t know how I ended up there, how I witnessed a girl being burned alive. And then losing all my memory. I didn’t know who my biological parents were. There was no way we could trace them.

The only thing we knew was that they had killed dozens of girls in a ruthless manner. Even worse, they had sold the other hundreds into prostitution and slavery. And they got away with only fourteen years in jail due to lack of witnesses. Apparently, my statement, considering my age back then and my memory loss was not all that strong. Nor was the statement of other girls. Because they were little girls.

Wiping the tears away, I logged of the Google news and tried to sleep. I did manage to, only to be visited by nightmares yet again.

“Ok, so I’ll drop you off at gym and then pick you up, and straight to airport!” Malaika said in an all chipper voice as I packed for the day. Grips, leo, sweats, basically my life. Mornings were normally lazy around, but today I had to get to gym early. I hated early mornings, they were the worst thing possible in the history of mankind.

Going into the gym, one could sense the tension in the air. My best friends, Lauren and Kayla were already there. We had known each other since we all were just learning cartwheels. We were always the closest, the inseparable three right from level four gymnasts competitions started. But now, things were bitter, nasty, between us.

All because of the new drama. New coach. New FIG rules.

Apparently, Trevor left us overnight and all we had was a dude called Dimitri. A Russian gold medalist, and heck of a coach. I still didn’t know if I wanted to train under him. Trevor was there all the time, and now him? It wasn’t fair of me to not give him a chance, so I was trying to mend to his ways. He was the bad-guy coach everyone hated, and still had a good side to him hidden inside.

Sighing, I went to the mats getting ready for yet another day of utter and complete torture.

“Do not get into drinking for God’s sake.” Dimitri warned me for the thousandth time and I nodded while getting into the car while leaving straight for the airport. He was ready to let me go, which wasn’t typical for any coach. I had promised I’d condition daily, not lose focus and everything. But he did trust me, and that was something rare. Maybe he wasn’t all that Satan types.

“Here is your diet coke, ma’am.” The air hostess got the silver can, and I smiled and used my nonexistent nails to open the seal. Chalk made the nails look dirty. The seatbelt sign was off, so I dumped the I pod touch and walked over to the couches.

Yes, we were in a plane, a private plane. What do I like the most about them? Besides the obvious- privacy-was the fact that they were hell luxurious. And we didn’t even have to claim our baggage off the conveyor belts and stuff. While travelling with family, they had another advantage- no fans asking for pictures and autographs. Geez, that was terrible. Because when a girl’s gotta sleep on a flight, she’s really gotta sleep.

“Dhee Dhee” Arhaan called out and I sat beside him. He was playing with his little toy cars, making the cute engine noise. He always called me Dhee Dhee. I figured he meant Dee-Dee, Hindi word for big or elder sister. Some said he meant to call me LeeLee, one of my many nicknames. Anyways, anything but aunt would suffice.

I played with him for another hour, when I started to feel tired. I handed Arhaan to Malaika and went to my seat. Requesting the air hostess to convert it into a bed, I crept inside and shut the shutters down. Somehow, a small cell felt comfortable after a long practice. And I was stupid enough to sleep through an entire flight on a private jet. Only me.

Getting into the car was not all that difficult, yet I had two bodyguards with me. Mike, my personal favorite, and other new guy whose name I didn’t know.

“How is the training going?”

“Who is your boyfriend?”

“Do you hate the fact that you are adopted?”

Another bunch of questions were shot at me as we drove off the airport. Malaika and Arhaan were in another car, for safety and crap. The airport paparazzi tend to get on my nerves. Nothing is more annoying than people being rude when you are a victim of jet lag.

“You fine?” asked the new guy and I nodded in reply. It was good to see the familiar traffic and roads after months.

“Well, you looked annoyed back there.”

“I was, but its ok now. But…how did you know?”

“I’m ex-navy personnel. We know.” the new guy said and I stared at him dumb founded. I knew there were ex-secret service agents in our security team, and now ex-navy? Wow, just wow. But before I could interrogate him any further, we pulled into our driveway.

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Just the start! So, she's almost thirteen now! wow! :) 

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