PARAPLANO

C H A P T E R - F O U R

C H A P T E R 4

THE man nods as if he was expecting her.

Ella hasn't even fully pulled out the VIP pass when the burly bouncer pushes the door open behind him. She thanks him and tugs the bottom of her white singlet nervously.

Her, Ella Joyce, nervous? This is a first.

She doesn't know what to expect, but the sight that greets her is far, far, far, from anything she had remotely imagined.

Inside is a huge dressing room with several rooms and hallways leading off. There are crew members rushing about everywhere, and despite the chaotic movement, the atmosphere is relaxed and quiet.

In the corner is a long couch in front of a mounted TV, showing some sort of football game. Kurtis is splayed out on the couch, but he's not paying the TV any attention. Three rolls of bread and a video game controller balance precariously on his face.

There's a table tennis table a few metres from the couch. Flynn is standing on it, a cricket bat in hand. He's taken his shirt off and tied around his head as a bandana. A younger boy, about twelve, stands on the opposite end. He throws a pear at Flynn. Flynn swiftly knocks it into the air.

Along one wall is a row of vanities and chairs to accompany them. Boxes of makeup, hairbrushes, hair dryers, cans of hairspray, jars of hair gel, hair wax, lie neatly on the vanity tables. Hunter sits in one of the dressing chairs. Two stylists fiddle with his hair and makeup. He's fast asleep.

Chase is nowhere to be seen.

"Guys! I did it! Look!" Kurtis yells urgently.

The small boy turns to Kurtis, while Flynn stays rooted and says coolly, "You're not cool, Kurt."

Kurtis shows Flynn his middle finger. Flynn just rolls his eyes.

Hunter snores.

Flynn notices Ella and hops off the table. "Hey, you're the girl that got manhandled by security yesterday," he grins.

Ella flushes, either from the memory or from the fact Flynn freaking Parkin remembers who she is. She still can't believe she is standing in the dressing room of the boyband she'd been idolising for the past three years. She's so starstruck that her usual chatty mouth is sealed shut.

"Hi, I'm Flynn." But Ella already knew that. He sticks his hand out and Ella is impressed at his style of handshake, her hand feeling secure is his ice grip.

"Ella." She's trying so hard not to scream or bawl her eyes out.

"I'm Kurtis," Kurtis appears beside Flynn, sans bread rolls and video game controller.

"Otherwise known as dickbum." Flynn adds.

Ella nods and laughs, voice nowhere to be found. Her quickening heart beats almost painfully.

Kurtis punches Flynn, but the latter takes no notice as he turns around and motions for the young boy to come here. He obliges shyly.

"This is Fredrick. Say hi, Fredrick."

"Hi." he almost whispers. Then he turns to Flynn. "My name's not Fredrick." he groans, "It's Fred."

"That's not what it says on your birth certificate."

The name Fredrick stirs something within her mind. She takes in Flynn and Fred's same sandy, almost strawberry blonde hair, same crinkles in the corner of their eyes whenever they move their face, same spatter of freckles across their nose and cheeks, same indent in their chin. He looks like a mini version of Flynn. She remembers from her many hours of stalking that Fred is Flynn's younger brother.