Eleven Eleven

Us and Them

By some miracle, jogging first thing the next morning helped me sort through my thoughts.

I started to slow around curve of the wall outside my neighborhood, my focus on the Licensee Plate of my brother's mustang. If my mind had been so preoccupied with trying to keep the rest of my body from collapsing, it was likely I would be stifling a laugh over the words on the California plates. Three years and I still couldn't get over the ridiculousness of the personalized piece of metal.   

Hot Rod3

The previous owner of the car had been an egotistical USC graduate who had no desire to sell the car in the first place. When my brother had finally got the guy to cave, his only demand was that my brother come up with the dumbest possible plates. How either of them survived high school was beyond me.

I finally slowed to a stop, leaning into the trunk as I took a swing from the little left in my water bottle. I started to straighten myself out, knowing my brother would likely blow a blood vessel if he saw me touching his car, when I heard the sound of tires crunch what I hoped was a twig behind me.

Jerking around, I lowered my bottle to my side and stared at the limo stretched out along the street before me. It was nothing like I'd seen before; a white convertible with red velvet seats, three of which were occupied by a boy lounged in back with his feet across them.

"Willow!" the voice from the passenger's seat exclaimed, pushing himself up and stepping on the seat to get out as if the handles on the door were only part of the scenery.

I crunched my bottle in my hand and forced a smile. "I'm sure you're well aware, but you're definitely in the wrong neighborhood."

"Willow, it' me. Jack." the man plucked the askew hundred dollar Ray Band's from his long, pointed nose and flashed me a smile.

It was sickening staring at the man; even more disgusting was the fact that my brother was a walking clone of him. They both stood just over six feet, were extraordinarily lanky, and had the same piercing blue eyes that had the ability to force you to face your deepest fears and were to be aware of your darkest secrets.

"I'm sorry." I said through my teeth. "I thought I was clear. You're in the wrong neighborhood."

Jack ran a hand through his gel ridden black hair and nodded in the direction of the limo. The boy in back perked up at the sound of my father clearing his throat, sunglasses of his own shielding his half his face.

"We're good, Howard. Pull the car around there and park it. Kid, let's go." my dad closed his mouth for the first time since he'd arrived as the boy stood and stretched his arms behind his head. His pale blue v-neck rode up the side, flashing me a perfect view of his toned abdomen.

I had no doubt in my mind the boy was one of Xander's friends and a member of the shitty boy band.

After a moment of consideration, the boy jumped on to the hood of the car and slid down it in a move I wanted to assume was supposed to be graceful. Instead, he slid too far and hit the pavement so hard I winced a little. Rubbing his lower back as he stood, he turned back to my father.

"Can I take these off or is she going to faint like the last girl?" the boy's voice was soft and familiar.

It was Mason Carter.

"Trust me, Mase." I could feel the tension between my father and me die a bit. "The only time I'd faint for you guys is if you wrote one of your shitty songs about me."

Mason's head whipped up in surprise, sunglasses falling to the ground as a result of the quick movement. I was immediately greeted with big, welcoming brown eyes. Standing at the angle he was, I could see the sun refracting off of them and allowing full view of the gold specks floating aimlessly around in them.