You Can Find Me In The Space Between

Chapter Sixteen

Nate couldn't remember when or if he had been on a plane, but after his flight back to England, he swore he was never going to go on another one ever again. It was so stressful, trying to pack everything, and then having to try to do a last-minute re-pack because your bag is overweight, then going through security which is its own private hell, and then once you actually get on the blame, you have to try to forget that you are in a metal can hurtling through the air. Nate was almost wondering if he could take a boat back, rather than have to endure another flight. He really did not understand how the flight attendants just walked around the plane like it was no big deal.

Getting out of the Los Angeles airport wasn't much better. It was unbearably hot, and far too many people. After getting through customs and finally finding their luggage, Nate and Fiona made their way to the taxi line. Nate was pulling up his confirmation email from the band, trying to find the address for their hotel. All of a sudden, he felt a sharp pain in his gut.

"Fi! What is your problem?" Fiona said nothing, she had a glazed look about her eyes. "Fi? Fiooooooona?" Again, Fiona didn't respond. Instead she firmly gripped Nate's face and turned it to face a man in a suit, holding up a sign.

Nathaniel Rinehart

But Nate knew it wasn't just the sign that made her stop. It was the fact there was a stretch limo behind the man.

"Do... do you think that's for you?" Fiona asked in awe.

Nate decided if he pretended to be confident, then maybe everything would be okay. "Come on Fi," he said while dragging her hand towards the man. Fiona had heard Nate's voice rise an octave or two when he was lying, nervous, anxious or suspicious. But she had never heard him lower his voice. He was definitely trying to sound as authoritative as possible. "Apologies for the delay, we erroneously missed you when we first arrived." Erroneously? Fiona knew for sure Nate was trying to sound more mature and in control.

The driver gave a small smile, and opened the door before placing their luggage in the trunk. Fiona slid in first followed by Nate. They locked eyes and gave a silent squeal right as the trunk shut close. Trying once again to act as if this wasn't a crazy situation, the two relaxed, though had their phones out so they could text about every single amazing thing that was going on.

"Are you ready to go?" the driver asked with a smile from the front of the limo. Nate gave a big thumbs up as they pulled away from the curb. "Is this your first time in Los Angeles?"

"It's our first time in America!" Fiona gleefully said.

"Well then, I think we better make this a scenic drive. Is that all right with you, sir?"

Fiona nudged Nate in the stomach. He hadn't realized the driver was addressing him. Nate didn't feel like a 'sir'. "Oh, uh, yes, of course. Actually, yes that would be amazing! Is there any chance we might be able to see the Hollywood Bowl? Oh, and the Orpheum and the Greek?"

"Also, if you know where any gorgeous single actors are, I wouldn't say no to that." Fiona said cheekily. The driver gave a quiet chuckle before getting off the freeway and starting their personalized tour of Los Angeles.

Their driver, who they eventually learned was named Gareth, had moved from Northern Ireland as a teenager, not that you would be able to tell, as his accent was imperceptible. He had spent the better part of the last 50 years working as a chauffeur for some of pretty impressive celebrities. He didn't reveal that outright, but would mention small anecdotes, such as how the last time Elton was in town, they found a small independent music store just so he could play the piano without attracting crowds. And how Rashida always remembered his coffee order. Gareth was quickly becoming one of the most fascinating Nate and Fiona had ever met. As they pulled up to their hotel, Nate and Fiona stared at is with wide eyes.

"Nate," Fiona hissed while hitting her friend's arm. "Do you know what this hotel is? This is the Beverly Wilshire! This is where Pretty Woman happens!" Clearly not talking as quietly as she thought, Gareth chuckled from the front, telling them a story about a young Julia Roberts. While Nate and Fiona were sad to say goodbye to Gareth, he promised he would pick Nate up tomorrow for the auditions. Nate's stomach suddenly contracted as he remembered why he was in LA in the first place.

Nate took a deep breath as he entered the massive lobby. He hadn't realized how well off this band was – the hotel was breathtaking. He proceeded to the front desk to check-in. He was relieved when he found out he had his own room; they didn't have a back-up plan if Fiona couldn't sleep in Nate's room. Before Nate could turn around, the concierge stopped him and gave Nate a thick envelope. While his fingers itched to open it, he returned to Fiona and the two made their way to the elevators, as a bellboy took their luggage away.

When the elevator arrived, Nate and Fiona were joined by other guests. They all stood in silence as various groups got off on different floors. When the doors opened on the eighth floor, Fiona followed Nate into the long hall. They silently counted down the room numbers till they found their suite, 812. Once they opened the door they were at a loss for words. Nate blinked several times before a wide grin spread across his face. He was about to say something when Fiona beat him too it.

"AHHHHHHHHHH! HOW IS THIS YOUR LIFE RIGHT NOW!? LIKE HOLY CRAP! DID YOU KNOW THIS IS WHAT THE HOTEL WAS GOING TO BE LIKE? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME WHERE WE WERE STAYING! I DIDN'T BRING THE RIGHT CLOTHES FOR THIS SWANKY OF A PLACE!" Nate was sure Fiona continued to ramble on, but he was too mesmerized by the view from the balcony. He stood outside, breathing in the fresh air, before remembering his mysterious envelope from earlier.

Nate looked around, confused, as he couldn't find Fiona in their room. "Uh, Fi?"

"I'M IN HERE!" Fiona shouted from behind a door Nate has missed when they first walked in. He knew it wasn't the bathroom door, so he opened it. He didn't think his jaw could drop any lower. He hadn't noticed there wasn't a bed in the previous room, but he now realized that was just their swanky seating area. Nate grabbed his envelope as he starfished on the bed. He quickly read through the first few sentences, it was an itinerary for the few days that they were in LA. As he skimmed the page, he bit out a curse.

"Fiona, we're supposed to be meeting for dinner on the terrace, wherever that is, in... 40 minutes!" Nate screeched as he checked his watch. Yes, he wore a watch and didn't just rely on his phone to tell the time.

"We? Do you think I'm invited? Isn't it probably just for... you know, the people who were actually asked to be here? Aka, not me?" Fiona asked with the slightest bit of hesitation in her voice. She was usually so confident that Nate was struck by her tone.

"Fi, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. So, I say you come with me. The worst they can do is say no, right? Plus, I know you want to meet them, so you might as well come now. Maybe someone will fall madly in love with you and take you off my hands," giving Fiona a wink.

"Har har." Fiona rolled her eyes at Nate. Then a smirk graced her lips. "Well we better get ready then. I don't know if 40 minutes will be enough for you to pick an outfit, not without my help at least," she said while sticking out her tongue.

Nate didn't want to admit it, but she was probably right. He was nervous about the audition, yes, but he felt like meeting the band was going to be the most important thing. He didn't know why, but he felt like he wanted them to like him – not just as a drummer, but as a person... a friend, even. He looked at his watch again, only 37 minutes to go and he couldn't waste any more time.

a/n

You know those moments where you're like, oh I've done the work I was supposed to, but then you're sitting in class and the teacher calls on you to answer a question and you realize nope. you're screwed. you didn't do the work.

well that was me this morning when I realized I had written a chapter but then never published it. so... my bad?

"I've heard that hard work never killed anyone, but I say, why take the chance?" - Ronald Regan... the 40th president of USA