The Strings Attached | Zayn Malik

Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

"Come on, get up. We are going to London."

I was ordered to pack right away since the plane was leaving in three hours. "Why are we going to London?" I huff as I just finished putting my bags in the blood red car.

"There is a new painting that is worth 6.5 million dollars!" I open the door to the car. "I haven't been to London in awhile," I say quietly as we start our drive to the airport.

"6.5 million isn't that much compared to The Mona Lisa," I turn my blond head to Jack who had parked into the overfilled airport. "Yeah well, the security has doubled up on the most valuable paintings." Jack says matter-of-fact.

"Oh," is all I say dreaming about what painting we are going to steal.

What I have always wanted to have as my own possession was the painting named "The Forgotten Man," it was always a favorite of mine. The lonesome man sitting in the street while others pass, undoubtedly has taken no thought to the man. It reminded me of my own kind--thieves. We are all around, yet we are forgotten or was never seen in the first place.

* * *

We arrived at the grand hotel of my friend's who is also a deceiver in my line of work. "Come on, this is your room 207, mine is 216, it's just a little ways away if you need anything." Jack says without looking at me just in case if anyone was watching. It's infuriating to constantly be cautious.

I opened the door to see a nice room with a great view of our area. It was a suite so it had a modern kitchen, two bedrooms with one room with a king sized bed and the other with two twin beds. It also had a nice living room with a black flat screen TV and one in each bedroom. "Nice," I admired as I put my two blue suitcases in the middle of my bedroom with the king sized bed.

I leave my suite with my black leather wallet with three licenses, two of them fake, and I brought my little brown bag with my tools to break into any room easily which is my specialty.

I walk to the outside smiling heading to the target museum, which is across the beach, a block away from the hotel.

I head over to the cramped beach and wait for the signal for Jack to distract the security for me to go find the small painting of a black and white forest. I sit on the hot yellow sand looking at the imitating building looming over me.

"Oh chestnuts!" I hear the one and only Jack yell frantically. Knowing very well that's my dreaded signal, I eagerly and swiftly enter the building going towards the section of art called "Art Of Scenery."

I see Jack has spilt a lemon pink juice all over the dark colored security guard. I quietly walk behind the man and enter the room that shows only the one painting. Right next to it showed an exit sign. "Idiots," I murmur.

"What's that?" A young man turns his head from the blue seat he was sitting at in front of the painting. Where did he come from?

"You!" He stands up. Shit, he found out what I'm doing. Though, I don't know how he could. I back up not sure what to do, but instead of anger across his face he shyly smiles.

"You never called," he timidly stands in front of me awkwardly scratching his neck looking down. "No one has ever rejected me," he whispers, but I could hear.

"I don't know what you're talking about?" I rush looking back to see Jack panicking not knowing how else to distract him after seeing I still don't have the painting yet.

"You don't remember me?" He sounds hurt. My face softens still not knowing who he was when it clicked.

"Umbrella guy!" I shout hoping we can get this over with then I can get the painting before it's too late. "Ha yeah, my name is Zayn," he puts out his large right hand for me to shake.

"I'm more of a hugger." He laughs as we hug and I swiftly fish out his black thick wallet from his back pocket to make sure his name is indeed Zayn. I analysis and see his face in his driver license, "Zayn Malik" it read. "Well, I better get going!" I start to leave, knowing I won't get the painting.

"Wait! I don't know your name!" He grabs my hand and spins me around.

"Jane Young," why did I say my real name? Was it because I needed to leave and that's the first instinct to say?

Or was it because he won't let go of my hand and I feel awkward. He smiles, now knowing my name. "Well, Jane Young why leave so quickly? You didn't even see the painting." He drags me to the long dark blue seat that was against the wall as a back rest. He finally let goes of my pale hand as soon as I am seated. "Beautiful," I study it.

Zayn says something too, but I couldn't hear it since he whispered. I turn my head, "Why are you here?" He looked shocked and hurt. "Sorry, do you want me to leave?" He stands up watching me as I grab his hand this time. "No sorry, that sounded rude, that's not what I meant. I meant, the last time I saw you, you were in California."

"Oh, that's because I live here. I'm on tour." I guess I looked confused because he suddenly remembered I didn't know who he was.

"I'm in a famous band called One Direction."

"You are?" I jump up.

"Yeah..?" He says unsure.

"My friend talks about you guys!" I say laughing at how stupid I was. Jack always had a plan on directly stealing from the rich and One Direction was the ideal group he always wanted to steal was from them.

Indubitably, I wasn't going to tell Zayn. "Really? What's her name?"

I giggle, "It's a guy," he shifts in his seat. "He's not gay!" I blurt realizing what he thought. "He just admires your work," (A/N there is nothing wrong with being gay!) I tried to keep as honest as possible with a little stretch.

"Oh? We need more guy fans," he tries to think of the perfect words to say to me. I nod agreeing. "You never told me why you never called? It has been three weeks. Was it something I said?" Zayn stares at me for the answer.

"Oh, the rain ruined it. I couldn't see the print." He smiles and asks for my phone. I give him the device. "Now you can't loose it," I smile and choke back a groan. Knowing Jack, he will make me throw my phone away.

"Thanks," I take it back. "Well, I better go." I start to leave.

"Remember to call me this time!" Zayn yells back as I leave the museum.

"Hey Jack, here's my phone."

"Why do I need your phone?" His voice was deep as if dehydrated. He clears his throat while he examines the iPhone sitting on the palm of his hand.

"You know Zayn Malik? From One Direction? He is one persistent guy. Three weeks ago he gave me his number and you shredded it-"

"I--what?!"

"Let me finish- wait you want his number?"

"Yeah!"

"Will you quit shouting?" I hiss at him.

We were at a public park and many parents with their small children were glaring at us.

"Sorry," He murmurs.

"Anyway, he was at the art gallery looking at our target and for some reason he remembered me." I shrugged. "He gave me his number again in my phone, I figured you were going to throw it away."

"I know what we are going to do."

*****

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