The Pursuit of Camila Cabello

Chapter Three: Tough Love

A.N: When an entire sentence is in italics, this means it's in a different language (either italian or spanish, depending on the context). I'd rather write it like that so you don't have to translate it through google.

A.N: Lauren's puppy was changed to a Doberman because I've just found out that pit bulls are illegal in Miami so... yeah.

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The Cat's Meow never ceased to leave Lauren breathless. From the neon lights to the rowdy crowds, the allure of danger and a guaranteed good time was too great to avoid. Even in her shaken up state, the familiar smells of bourbon and vodka seemed to ground her.

Her motorcycle roared into the sidewalk, nearly running down a group of people standing by the kerb. Many yelled curses at her but she couldn't find the energy to care. Instead, she parked by the entrance and killed the engine.

Sliding off, she realised just how big the line into the club actually was; people were lined up as far as the eye could see. Lauren was never a fan of waiting or playing by the rules. She strolled past those in line towards the entrance. Two big blokes were acting as bodyguards and wore rather cross looks on their faces.

It took Lauren a moment but she quickly recognised them. The taller man was Lucio and the stocky one was Fredo, both nephews of Uncle Tony's. They had been the ones who introduced her to boxing when she was still a teenager.

She waltzed up to them and said, "Well, don't you boys look absolutely menacing?"

Simultaneously, their heads snapped towards her with a fire in their eyes. Once they recognised her, however, broad grins grew on their faces.

"The prodigal daughter returns!" Lucio boomed out and Fredo clapped his large hand onto her shoulder. She knew that, by the way he's squeezing, she was going to have a bruise by the morning. Her body bruised way too easily.

Something flashed from beside Lauren and as she turned, she found a young man with a camera in his hands. He wore a shit-eating grin, the kind that made Lauren groan internally. A photograph of rockstar Lauren Jauregui going into a burlesque club after almost killing a group of bystanders? There was no doubt in her mind that she would be in tomorrow's headlines.

She quickly fished out her keys and tucked it into Fredo's jacket, saying, "We can talk tomorrow. I have to speak with Uncle Tony for now."

The two, having seen the flash, gave a nod of understanding and small smiles. She smiled back softly before making her way into the club. She could hear Lucio's booming voice try to quell the protesting crowd as she did so.

Stepping into the club, she found an audience watching the stage with rapt attention. The club was dimly lit with hundreds of candles. The sweet sounds of smooth jazz filled the air, especially the saxophone which sent shivers down Lauren's spine. The smell of alcohol and rosewater was strong.

As she stood by the entrance, she spotted the leader singer, Ally Brooke, performing her act. It was a rendition of "Please Mr Jailer" by Wynona Carr, an all-time favourite of Lauren's. As far as she could see, she had the audience under her spell. Ally just had that affect on people.

Suddenly, Ally's eyes bore into hers and a sultry grin grew on her face. She was still in character, after all. Otherwise her smile would be from ear-to-ear and filled with joy.

"Better hide your men, ladies," Ally called from the stage as Lauren waltzed down the stairs, "Here comes Lauren Jauregui."

Many people recognised the name and swivelled in their seats to spot her. Thankfully, she didn't have to worry about signing any autographs because she was quickly swarmed by the Morello family. Specifically, the men of the Morello family. They all had the same look: broad shoulders, menacing faces, slick hair and strong jawlines.