Smiling at Everything

Jazz watched Zack fiddle with his key ring outside of his apartment door. He seemed nervous that Jazz would be staying at his apartment. She couldn't figure out why. Due to the money her parents gave her, she may have seemed like a spoiled rich kid but she wouldn't judge Zack by his living conditions. He was too nice of a guy.

Standing in the hallway, she realized the building was much different than the one her penthouse was in. It was still nice, sure, but it wasn't the same. The hallway was various shades of brown with maroon carpeting; Jazz's hallway was pure white. There were multiple different doors down the hallway, unlike Jazz's penthouse hallway.

Zack shoved the key in the lock, turning it, and pushing the door open. He grabbed the heavier of Jazz's suitcases, which happened to be the smaller one, and walked in enough to hold the door ajar for Jazz. Jazz nodded her thanks to him as she walked past him. Her eyes gazed around the apartment. It was smaller than the penthouse, like she suspected; the color pallet darker. She set her bags next to the door and walked further into the living room. Everything seemed to express who Zack was.

"It's not a penthouse but its home," Zack said, letting the door shut and placing her heavy bag next to her lighter ones.

Seriously, what the hell did she have in that thing?

"I like it," Jazz announced.

Something about the cozy apartment made Jazz happy. Maybe it was the fact that it felt lived in, like a real home. Jazz's penthouse definitely didn't feel like that. Besides her piano, office space, and fridge full of energy drinks, her home lacked the feel of a person's existence. Zack's apartment, though smaller than her penthouse, was a home.

"Thanks," Zack smiled, watching her gaze around his apartment.

"Where am I sleeping?" Jazz asked.

She wasn't tired yet but it would be nice to know. It was relatively important considering she had to try sleeping that night. Once the coffee she drank at the restaurant wore off, she would be out like a light.

Till the nightmares resurfaced of course.

"In my room," Zack replied, "I'm taking the couch."

Jazz turned to face him. He was giving up his room for her? Was he crazy? His couch didn't look all that comfortable; he couldn't let her have his room. It was his apartment. She wasn't going to let him give up his comfort the night before the tour. The bunks on the bus definitely weren't the easiest things to sleep on. Plus, Jazz would only get an hour worth of sleep tops. She couldn't take Zack's bed for that period of time.

"Zack, I can sleep on the couch," Jazz stated.

"But you're sleeping in my room."

"No, I'm sleeping on the couch."

"Jazz, cupcake, pumpkin, princess, whatever your parents call you, stop arguing with me; you're sleeping in my room," Zack said.

Jazz laughed at Zack's attempt to figure out a pet name her parents would call her. Too bad they didn't have a pet name for her. Robert did but he was her stepfather so he didn't count. If her parents had a pet name for her, she would likely get aggravated anytime they would call her it. She just couldn't see them acting as normal parents.

"My parents call me Jazz," she stated.

"So is Jazz a nickname? Like how Miley Cyrus's birth name isn't Miley? Is your name Destiny Hope too?"

Again, Jazz laughed. How Zack got her laugh, she didn't know. Real laughs were normally few and far between but Zack was capable of making her laugh with his carefree comments. She didn't understand why he didn't talk more when he was with his band mates. He could keep a conversation going just fine.

"My real name is Jazz. You wouldn't be the first to assume it’s a nickname," Jazz replied, "Robert still calls me Jezebel even after I corrected him."

"Robert?" Zack asked.

She didn't have a boyfriend, did she? Was that why she reacted the way she did at the meeting when their shoot was announced? Of course she would have a boyfriend. Jazz was gorgeous, no doubt she had already been snatched up. Zack wasn't going to touch another man's girl if that was the case. He knew to back off, especially if the guy was the jealous type.

"My stepfather," Jazz said, "I don't call him 'dad' or anything like that. He's just Robert."

Or maybe she was single. Zack couldn't believe he had been so quick to jump to assumptions. He wasn't normally like that. The mild jealousy he felt over someone else having Jazz was abnormal.

This crush he had on Jazz was becoming a bit more than just a crush.

"And he calls you Jezebel?" Zack asked.

Jazz nodded.

"That sounds like you should be out back on the farm milking cows rather than playing for stadiums full of people."

Jazz crinkled her nose, "I'm not milking a cow."

Zack shrugged, "Your loss, I guess. Is your middle name really Elvis? Or was that a joke?"

Back at the restaurant she had introduced herself to the other two bands as Jazz Elvis Presley. Knowing her, it could have been a joke. Jazz went to any length to make her friends think she was okay; joking about her name would be one of things she would do. Then again, her friends hadn't reacted any differently.

But her parents could not have named her Elvis.

"Yeah, it is," Jazz answered.

Her parents were strange individuals. Being that they were plastic surgeons, it was assumed her name would be normal. When her parents had pulled out that name at the hospital, Jazz's extended family didn't exactly react well. Her cousins had normal names: Aaron, Vanessa, Catherine, Daniel, Eric, Phillip, Elizabeth. Then there was Jazz. It was like her parents were setting her up to be shunned from the rest of her family. All of her cousins were older than her, aside from Aaron who was two years her junior. They all went to college, had degrees in various respected fields, had jobs in said fields. Aaron, who was unintentionally given Elvis's middle name as his first, was still in college but was excelling. He already had job offers lined up. Jazz was a musician who didn't go to college, though she excelled in school.

Jazz didn't get along well with her cousins.

"That's a manly name. No wonder you can drink black coffee," Zack commented.

"Does that mean your middle name is Beatrice? I mean you were the one drinking that adorable frappucino. What was it called again? The 'Zack Merrick is a pansy frappucino?' Yeah, I think that's it."

"What am I supposed to drink at Starbucks?"

"I already told you, a man drink."

Zack scoffed, rolling his eyes, "Whatever, Elvis. Let me show you to the room you're sleeping in."

"Sure thing, Beatrice," Jazz smiled, following Zack down a short hallway.

Zack stopped in front of the door at the end of the hallway, turning the knob and pushing it open. He kept the door open for Jazz to walk through. Instead of walking through the door, Jazz stood in the doorway to examine the room. Aside from the two shirts on the floor, it was immaculate. It had a male vibe to it, though it lacked half naked women adorning the walls. The color pallet was again darker than Jazz's home, but that wasn't hard considering her whole home was a series of light neutrals.

The main thing that made it stand apart from her master suite was the fact that Zack's room, like the rest of his house, actually looked lived in.

"Um, this is where you'll be sleeping tonight," Zack said, noticing Jazz wasn't moving.

Jazz nodded in response, eyes still gazing over the room. She wished her penthouse looked like someone actually lived in it. But she wasn't quite comfortable in it yet. No, it wasn't that; she wasn't comfortable with herself yet, with the past.

"I guess I'll go set up the couch then," Zack said, turning to leave her to the stare down with his room.

Jazz barely heard him, too consumed in her thoughts. But she did realize his presence had disappeared from her side.

"Zack," she said.

Zack, who was halfway down the hall, stopped and faced her, "Yeah?"

"Thanks," Jazz said, turning her head to face him, "for everything."

Zack smiled, "Its no problem. You need a friend right now more than anything."

Jazz smiled in return. At least someone kind of understood her.