Pictures and Some Memories

"Job well done, Rose," a voice drifted into my ear in a husky tone. I jumped and turned immediately, only to find Danny smirking as he held a half empty beer in his hand.

I glared. "You can't keep doing that, Kurily, especially when it's been months since I've seen you."

He grinned. "Quite the contrary, Andi. You're leaving already, anyways. Do you even plan on resting during this year off that we have?"

I looked around at the careful arrangement of my passions in the large space. No, I immediately said to myself. No way. Once I'd gotten back into the studio and worked on pieces, edited photos that I'd taken as we traveled, and put my energies into what I originally came to New York for, I didn't want to stop. I needed this year off more than I ever thought possible.

"I can't help that I've a wedding to be in," I grinned. Cara had called with the last minute request three weeks before in hysterics after finding out that the bridesmaid that was supposed to be in couldn't get the day off for the wedding and now left an open spot. She also apologized for not asking originally, but I was still out of range when she began to plan it all. I knew it'd be bold to accept the position considering he would be in the wedding party, too, but I didn't want to disappoint Cara. So, I accepted her offer and amazingly fit into the former bridesmaid's dress without a hitch. Tomorrow would be my final fitting, almost as soon as I arrived in California. The nerves about that made me sick enough, but this gallery was also my most important one thus far. So far my reception was great, but it was still early, after all.

"Oh yeah, the same friends that you saw on your birthday, right?" I nodded. "That's awesome! Do you need me to make an appearance in case Mr. Asshole himself tries to bother you?"

I rolled my eyes. "He's not an asshole," I found myself defending him, although a small part of me agreed with the nickname. Danny didn't know the extent of the bitterness between him and I, and I doubted he ever would. I wouldn't allow myself to open that chapter again, not anytime soon.

"Anyone that makes one of my best friends cry on their birthday is an asshole in my book," he said unapologetically, finishing his beer in two quick gulps. "You didn't answer my question, Chica. Do I need to go or nah?"

The alcohol is already getting to him, I thought before saying, "Nope, that'll be Larkin's job. He's gonna come out and meet my parents and all that good stuff."

Just as I finished, he motioned to take another drink of his beer, only to remember that it was empty. "Oh yeah? Well I hope you guys, uh, have fun," he says quickly, then turns to observe one of the photography prints I had hanging on the wall. "Is that from when we were in the alley near that sex shop in London?"

I eyed him curiously, wondering why the tone of his voice seemed to change when he spoke, as if he were disappointed, perhaps? I shook it off; maybe I was reading too far into it because of my anxiety about tonight. "Yeah, right after I had to flirt with that guard to let me even have access to that area," I grinned. The poor security guard was supposed to block off the alley-- with it being so close to a sex shop, I wasn't entirely too clueless on the reasoning-- but there was this mural that I wanted to photograph Carly in front of. The mural contained swirls of bright greens and other cool colors, and was just simply beautiful in my eyes. Plus, Carly had just had a disaster at the hair salon-- they dyed her hair an abrasive hot pink instead of fire engine red, and for once, her hair looked amazing against the swirls of color.

"Good thing your stepsister fixed it as soon as we got back to the States," Carly's bright voice appeared out of nowhere. "Serena is a goddess when it comes to hair."

"Thank God she isn't here, or else you'd make that ego of hers even bigger," I muttered just low enough for her to hear, and she chuckled in agreement. "Where's your boyfriend?"

She pointed to the far right side of the room, where he stood talking to Larkin, a serious expression on his face. "He's buying one of your pieces, and for once, Larkin isn't being totally unreasonable."

"Thank God," I murmured quietly. "Lately, he's been saying I should start at a thousand, but since I'm still a fledgling in this scene of mature artists, it just didn't make sense. I think I finally got through to him."

"Thank God. Crazy Italian has been so cranky since you sprung the wedding invite onto him." She rolled her eyes at him and added, "Is he finally okay with you also being in the wedding party or is he on your ass about it?"

I shrugged. "Not really. But, I'll only find out for sure when we arrive."

"How right you are," she murmured before both men began walking toward us.

"Hello again, my love," Larkin greeted me warmly, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. "I've sold six of your pieces in an hour! This is fantastic!"

"Yeah, well, four of those people know me personally," I said quietly, referring to Ezra, Julia, Alex and Carly's purchases.

"Yeah, well, that's still six more than you thought you'd sell tonight," he teased, making me roll my eyes. I always declared I wouldn't sell a single one but always disproved myself, tonight being a prime example of such."I'm proud of you, Andi."

"Thanks, babe. You know what else is fantastic? Waking up at four to get onto a plane. You ready for it?" I asked with a small grin.

He tilted his head back and groaned. "Not at all. Danny was talking about a great coffee shop by LAX with Alex earlier, though, so we're definitely stopping there before we get to your parent's house."

I looked over toward Danny to give him a grateful smile, but instead met a harsh, disgusted glare that I realized was directed in Larkin's direction. My face quickly fell and was replaced by a curious glance. As soon as Danny noticed that I saw his look, he quickly returned to his normal self, even laughing at one of Alex's jokes at the right time.

I turned back to Larkin and quietly said, "Yeah, sure," before being swept back into the craziness of the gallery. However, throughout the rest of the night, the memory of the dark, passionate look of pure hatred haunted me. It remained in my mind in the same way that one would have a nagging sense that they'd forgotten something at home but knew they actually hadn't; I was missing something that I didn't quite catch. I knew my friends pretty much saw Larkin as a bad guy most of the time, but they also knew that I could handle myself around him. But, with Danny, I saw the same protective look that crossed Larkin's features frequently, which was unsettling-- I'd never seen Danny so possessive over his friends before. Even more surprising was that he had suddenly insisted he would find a hotel instead of stay at the loft, which was odd; he was the one who helped Carly and I pick out a comfortable couch just so he could crash on it from time to time, after all. I couldn't shake it, no matter what I tried to distract myself with. It was etched onto my eyelids, forever on loop in my mind as I tried to chase it away with sleep.

****************

"So, remind me again, who does what in your family so I don't sound like a jackass when we get there," Larkin spoke quietly into my ear as we rode in the back of a Prius, courtesy of Uber.

"My father, Kyle, and my stepmom, Laura, they're entrepreneurs, and own five restaurants, two of which are in New York. Ryan is a psychologist, specializing in teen counselling and wellness. His fiancee, Maya, she's a swim merchandise buyer and manager at a clothing store in Venice Beach. My older stepsister, Paige, well... she has a degree in business, but she married rich and honestly just shops and plays house. Serena, my other stepsister, she's in the cosmetology field. She's a great hair stylist and makeup artist alike, and she's going to cut my hair tomorrow morning," I replied, ticking off each person on my tattooed fingers.

"Alright, cool. You don't have to worry about your friends in the band, though, I took the liberty to look them up before we left." He looked down at me and gave me a warm smile. "They've got a heavier sound than I imagined."

I chuckled. "Yeah, well, you've been ruined by Carly's insistence on playing Bruno Mars recently. Not that I'm complaining."

"Neither am I. They're actually pretty good," he admitted, making my heart quicken it's pace. "You said your ex was the rhythm guitarist?"

I nodded cautiously, unsure of where he was going with this question. "I was just wondering. I feel like I've run into him before."

"Really?" I couldn't help but squeak, internally kicking myself.

"Yeah, but I can't remember where. Or when, for that matter. It feels like deja vu almost, you know?" He said, then shrugging it off. "Damn, I have to say, though, this city is beautiful," he added a few moments later, gazing at the coast we were driving by.

I remained frozen in my seat, unable to respond. Was he kidding, or was he absolutely serious? I highly doubted that he'd joke about something like that, due to how much he was growling at the mere mention of his band's name only a month before. However, within the last week, he'd become a little more easygoing about it all. Suddenly he was excited to meet the guys, and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know all of them-- including a raven haired rhythm guitarist he already declared that he'd hate with every fiber of his being. Perhaps it was my anxiety making me doubt him, but I was wondering where his sudden change in heart came from. Then again, I hoped it'd last-- I could happily go a week without any weirdness on his part.

The driver snaked through downtown Huntington Beach without a hitch. I pointed out old haunts along the way, smiling as memories of my reckless, impulsive teenage self came to mind. There was the pier where Violet, Charlotte and I went to go see dolphins jump above the water in the distance; there was Lola's, the home of the best chocolate and peanut butter shakes on the west coast; there was Central Park, where my friends and I skipped many classes and smoked too many cigarettes. I noticed Larkin smiling at me as I spoke, enjoying my stories as much as I loved to tell them. It felt so great to finally share part of my roots with the man I loved. Of course, my true roots were in Austin, but I'd have to save that side for another time. I had to focus on getting through this week unscathed first.

Before I knew it, we were pulling into the neighborhood I always used to love to hate. The large homes on equally larger properties never failed to spark that small inkling of discomfort within me, no matter how long it'd been. I looked at the beautiful arched doorways, intricate iron gates, and stunning landscaped yards with a tentative eye. Despite my father living here for nearly a decade, I still couldn't shake the feeling that I just didn't belong in a neighborhood like this whatsoever. I was still that ragtag punk kid that could barely get by in my eyes, while lawyers, architects, and wealthy businessmen and women were amongst the privileged who resided in this side of town. I still felt as if I didn't deserve it, like I hadn't earned my way here.

We passed by one of the smaller homes only a few seconds before pulling up to the gate that kept outsiders away from the McMansion. It had looked like it was on the last leg of renovations-- stacks of smooth stones filled the top of the driveway, and a moving truck sat beside the three car garage. A sleek black Dodge Charger was parked inside of it, and plenty of boxes were stacked around it. My curious gaze moved away from the renovated home nearby and was met with my entire family standing at the top of our own drive, their smiles as large as the Range Rover they were standing next to.

I turned to get another curious look at the new home, only to see a flash of black hair before the automated garage door quickly closed. My heart stopped and fell into my feet as the realization hit me, and I cursed my stupid curious eyes.

That was Zacky's new house, only an arm's length away, it seemed. Suddenly, a sense of fear and dread filled me as I realized that this week had no chance of flowing smoothly-- not when the person I pushed away was only across the street and two houses down.