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.
"I don't know what's up," I answered her comment, shrugging.
"I'll say." Lucy pushed back her bangs and tapped me on the cheek. She was very touchy-feely. "What's it been, five months? You'd think the fools would get over it already."
I shrugged in response and greeted the next customer with a perky smile. "Hey, welcome to Starbucks! What can I get for you?"
An hour passed. Mondays were always the busiest for Starbucks. I asked Lucy about it once. She said, "Honey, after a long weekend of nothing but relaxation, you really want to come back, half asleep, to work or school?"
In any case, customers kept me busy throughout the morning. I'd gotten a few more odd looks, but nothing particularly out of the ordinary. I wasn't worried about anyone outright recognizing me anymore, but by the end of my shift I was so exhausted mentally that I wanted to go home and punch a pillow or something. As noon swung around, I had to keep myself from strangling the snippy customers.
Angelina, Starbuck's resident beauty queen, was part of the problem. She pretty much made it her mission to make what's rest of my life living hell. After finding out that I'd committed a felony (and yet didn't get charged for it), she severed any ties with my previous friends and tried to get me fired at least twice a week. I was lucky that Lucy and I were such good friends, because if not I definitely wouldn't be able to find a job anywhere. The girl was all looks, no brain, except when it came to that razor sharp wit that I was almost grudgingly impressed of. Now if only she used that power for good, instead of antagonizing people who could kill her in five different ways with her sparkly rhinestone belt.
I was packing up for my shift and ignoring Angelina's incessant gripes when a commotion outside of the Starbucks caught Lucy's attention. She frowned, peering outside as dozens of vans drove up. "What in the world?" she muttered.
Turning to me, Lucy called, "Maya, could you see-"
"Already on it," I answered, happy that she trusted me enough to go check out what was happening. I pulled on my Starbucks hat to at least partially hide my face and opened the door, ready to give somebody a piece of my mind.
The first thing I saw was the bright flash of a camera. My stomach dropped, but my foot was already a step out of the door. There was a swarm of photographers outside our humble little Starbucks, and they were all focused on a toned, tan figure striding purposefully towards me. His hair had been cut but was still blonde as ever. Oddly enough, he still looked childish, despite the fact that he'd turned twenty, my age, a month ago. And as his brown eyes locked with mine, I realized he hadn't really changed a bit.
My mouth popped open anyways. "Rocky...?"
"Hey babe," he smirked. Within seconds he closed the gap between us and, without warning, put his hands on either side of my face and kissed me.
***
Elsewhere
The man slipped into the car, subconsciously checking his pocket to be sure his prize was there. As he turned the key in the ignition, the navigation panel lit up and another man's face flickered onto the screen. It was partially obscured by shadows, something that was completely unnecessary and perhaps a little too dramatic for his tastes. Either way, however, this man was his boss, and he wasn't about to be criticized for it.
His superior stared him down, waiting patiently until he was actually on the road before speaking. "Did you find him?"
"Of course," he said pleasantly. "I told you, he was easy to track down."
"Because of the ring." The man sounded unimpressed. "Speaking of--"
"Yes, yes, I've got it," he sighed, patting his pocket again. "No need to worry."
"We're Redfangs, Dawson," the man chastised. "We stay alive by worrying."
And wasn't that the truth. Dawson tapped an absent beat on the steering wheel. "Have we got a location on the girls?"
"They saw no need to hide," his boss said, sounding amused. "Both are in Corpus Cristi, Texas. I trust you know what to do from here?"
Dawson did know. He pulled out the ring and peered at it, wondering just why it was so important that his boss get ahold of it. "What about the ring?"
"Keep it on you," his boss ordered. "We have one down and there's only two to go. Make sure you get what you need and dispose of them."
He rolled his eyes, having heard this spiel before. "I've got this, don't worry."
The boss gave him a look, like he was pushing his luck, and the screen flickered back to the map of Washington DC. Dawson turned up the radio and smiled slightly.
He loved his job.