Scandalous!
eight
'Sugar, we're going down.
It seems to be that Pete Wentz and Lynn Maxwell will not be getting together again any time soon. After rumours about Pete's bust up with a friend who was closely linked with Lynn, it seems that the 26 year old fashion designer has finally had enough of Chicago and was seen catching a flight to New York in O'Hare International airport yesterday evening.
Looks like Pete is going to have to find a new girl he can write his songs about.'
What had hurt the most was that she had not told him herself.
Gabe only knew that Lynn had gone to New York because it was splashed across page two and three of People magazine, with pictures of Lynn dressed in black skinny jeans, a red tartan style trench coat and Ray Bans on her nose pushing a suitcase trolley into O'Hare airport, passport and ticket already in hand.
She knew exactly that there would be photographers there for her. She knew she'd be gracing the glossy pages once more. She knew how to make it sting.
Gabe sighed and threw the cheap magazine across the room.
What was he going to do now?
Looking back on things, he'd messed up pretty bad. Not only had he punched his best friend in the face, who was also the man on whom Gabe relied for a record deal, but he had lost the most influential person in his life and the reason why he put up with so much of his best friends shit.
Lynn was gone. And he knew that she didn't want him flying after her, but Gabe was determined to do just that.
Acting on what normal rational people would call an impulse, Gabe went to buy a plane ticket online, however he did not have the guts to see the booking through and instead the internet page for American Airlines stayed open and visible on his white apple Mac computer for a week before Ryland accidentally on purpose pressed enter.
After a rather heated argument between Ryland and Gabe, which involved many 'mature' expressions of loathing, for which person ever was in the right at the present point in their argument, Ryland in the end threw Gabe his bag and demanded that he pack it and head to O'Hare airport.
For once Gabe did exactly what he was told to.
- - -
In New York it was raining. What else was there to expect? Total demoralised, Lynn walked through New York with a quizzical brow, pulling her trench coat closer to her, her brown boots making a defiant clunk on the side walk as they splashed though puddles.
Lynn had been in her chosen exile for a week now. It had been a blissfully quite week. She didn't see her face on any glossy pages, she could go out of the hotel dressed in tracksuit bottoms, UGG boots and a shabby looking t-shirt without anybody caring.
It was a different sense of freedom.
Despite being totally lonely she felt alright.
Until today.
The loneliness had hit her full frontal just as suddenly as the heavy rain that dropped out of the thick black clouds that filled up the Manhattan skyline. She had forgotten an umbrella and had long since given up trying to keep dry. The rain was soaking through every inch of the fabric that covered her body. She was shivering and her fingers were turning blue. Just as the situation looked to be resting at its current state of disaster, Lynn collided with a body, having been too fixated on keeping her head down, to watch where she was going.
The person was wearing what during hours of sunshine and fair weather would be a bright purple hoody, but at present it had been soaked through so much it appeared to be navy blue.
"Holy fuck not you!"
Were the horrified words that dropped out of Lynn's red lipsticked mouth as her eyes fell on Gabriel Saporta, the man who had caused her to run.
It seems to be that Pete Wentz and Lynn Maxwell will not be getting together again any time soon. After rumours about Pete's bust up with a friend who was closely linked with Lynn, it seems that the 26 year old fashion designer has finally had enough of Chicago and was seen catching a flight to New York in O'Hare International airport yesterday evening.
Looks like Pete is going to have to find a new girl he can write his songs about.'
What had hurt the most was that she had not told him herself.
Gabe only knew that Lynn had gone to New York because it was splashed across page two and three of People magazine, with pictures of Lynn dressed in black skinny jeans, a red tartan style trench coat and Ray Bans on her nose pushing a suitcase trolley into O'Hare airport, passport and ticket already in hand.
She knew exactly that there would be photographers there for her. She knew she'd be gracing the glossy pages once more. She knew how to make it sting.
Gabe sighed and threw the cheap magazine across the room.
What was he going to do now?
Looking back on things, he'd messed up pretty bad. Not only had he punched his best friend in the face, who was also the man on whom Gabe relied for a record deal, but he had lost the most influential person in his life and the reason why he put up with so much of his best friends shit.
Lynn was gone. And he knew that she didn't want him flying after her, but Gabe was determined to do just that.
Acting on what normal rational people would call an impulse, Gabe went to buy a plane ticket online, however he did not have the guts to see the booking through and instead the internet page for American Airlines stayed open and visible on his white apple Mac computer for a week before Ryland accidentally on purpose pressed enter.
After a rather heated argument between Ryland and Gabe, which involved many 'mature' expressions of loathing, for which person ever was in the right at the present point in their argument, Ryland in the end threw Gabe his bag and demanded that he pack it and head to O'Hare airport.
For once Gabe did exactly what he was told to.
- - -
In New York it was raining. What else was there to expect? Total demoralised, Lynn walked through New York with a quizzical brow, pulling her trench coat closer to her, her brown boots making a defiant clunk on the side walk as they splashed though puddles.
Lynn had been in her chosen exile for a week now. It had been a blissfully quite week. She didn't see her face on any glossy pages, she could go out of the hotel dressed in tracksuit bottoms, UGG boots and a shabby looking t-shirt without anybody caring.
It was a different sense of freedom.
Despite being totally lonely she felt alright.
Until today.
The loneliness had hit her full frontal just as suddenly as the heavy rain that dropped out of the thick black clouds that filled up the Manhattan skyline. She had forgotten an umbrella and had long since given up trying to keep dry. The rain was soaking through every inch of the fabric that covered her body. She was shivering and her fingers were turning blue. Just as the situation looked to be resting at its current state of disaster, Lynn collided with a body, having been too fixated on keeping her head down, to watch where she was going.
The person was wearing what during hours of sunshine and fair weather would be a bright purple hoody, but at present it had been soaked through so much it appeared to be navy blue.
"Holy fuck not you!"
Were the horrified words that dropped out of Lynn's red lipsticked mouth as her eyes fell on Gabriel Saporta, the man who had caused her to run.
♠ ♠ ♠
Not much left of this story...