*Quinn's POV*
I woke up to the sound of the TV blaring. Groaning, I brushed my teeth and made my way downstairs, seeing the boys in the living room watching some stupid cartoon on full blast. "Boys, could you turn that down?" I asked, yawning. Dallas grabbed the remote, turning the volume to a much more bearable level. "Thanks, Dallas." Beau suddenly laughed so hard at the cartoon that milk came out of his nose. I walked out of the room in disgust. Ugh, boys.
I walked into the kitchen, to see Ronnie with a stack of documents at the table. "Oh, Quinn, you're awake." I walked over to the counter, and poured myself a cup of coffee. "That I am." I replied, pouring cream and sugar into the cup, stirring it, and throwing the spoon into the sink. "So, we need to finalize the plans." I nodded, sitting down next to him, as we spread the documents all over the table, so we wouldn't have to dig through the pile for certain info. "So, how many months?" I asked. Ronnie looked through another stack of papers that were sitting on the side of the table. "Maybe 6 to 8 months, at 3 month intervals. I never make any desicions without getting the OK from them, so we'll see." He passed the papers over for me to looked them over. They had all the details of what was going to happen, time and budgetwise, down to the smallest details.
"This is actually a pretty damn accurate report. Sounds good, I'll ask-" I heard footsteps, and looked up, to see Milo and Luke. Correction: Emotionless Luke, and a fuming Milo "Oh, hey, Luke, hey, Milo. Where were you guys, and why does Milo look like he wants to stab someone in the face?"
Luke tossed his phone onto the table. The screen was lit up with an article.
"Tensions Rising: Wesley Stromberg Back In Town."
It consisted of just about the biggest amount of bullshit I had ever heard in my life, written by some girl I knew in high school claiming to have known me. Just the perks of being in the public eye. My phone buzzed with a text. I groaned, putting the phone on the kitchen island, and pulling it out of my pocket.
Unknown number>Quinn Beattie: You know who this is. Meet up at the old place. You know it-right?
Keaton Stromberg>Quinn Beattie: The guys are dragging me to a bar...wanna come?
Quinn Beattie>Keaton Stromberg: Sure, I guess?
Keaton Stromberg>Quinn Beattie: Coolio, I'll text you the address when we get there.
"Hey Ronnie, are we still going to the Zoo?" Beau excitedly bounded into the kitchen, wearing a hideous knitted elephant hat.
"Jesus Beau, what is that?" Asked Milo, staring at him. Beau turned towards him, smacking Luke in the face with the knitted trunk as he did so. "An elephant hat, the hell's it look like?"
"I don't think you want us to answer that question." I muttered. The few of us looked around the kitchen awkwardly. Or we were just trying not to make eye contact with Beau, or his hat that had deformed looking eyes that appeared to stare into your soul.
"Yes, we are going to the Zoo. BOYS, WE'RE GOING TO THE ZOO!" Answered Ronnie. There was a cheer from the living room, followed by excited chatter.
"No pressure or anything, but I'm going out today, Ronnie. You're gunna be in charge of these crazies." I said, walking out of the kitchen. Ronnie's exasperated groan was heard from the kitchen. I picked out some shorts and a Dirty Pig tank top, as well as grabbing my wallet from the counter.
This was going to set the record straight. Whenever the boys had some untrue rivalries and rumours circulating, I fixed them. This time, I was going to solve a problem of my own. It couldn't be that hard, right? I'd done it for different people all the time. Nothing could go wrong.
But as I drove to the bar, the car in my rearview mirror that seemed to be following my every move proved me otherwise.
*
Drew's POV*
"So, why are we here again?" Asked Keaton. I lightly punched him in the shoulder. "Dude, you're 20. But you can pass for 21. If you go to a bar, you go to the bar." Wesley, Keaton, and I sat down on some stools, and ordered some drinks. Out the corner of my eye, I saw 2 shitfaced girls hardly staying on their stool. "If you can take one more, you win. Deal?" Said the brunette. The blonde nodded, fists balled. "Another shot?" Called the blonde, slapping down a few bills. The bartender glared at her, but slid a small class full of clear liquid towards her. "Last one, aye?" He said, gruffly. She nodded, before downing the shot. She held her head, wincing at the aftertaste. I chuckled. Straight vodka shots killed. She walked to the bathrooms, and the brunette pulled out her phone. "Guys, take down the article. She's good." Putting aside any suspicions, I turned my attention back to the boys.
"First drink of your life, Keaton." Said Wes, putting an amber coloured drink in front of him, ice cubes sloshing in the drink. "Do I have to do this?" He wined. Wes glared at him, and Keaton put his hands up in surrender. "Fine." He gulped the whole drink down, and slammed the glass on the bar counter, panting and sticking his tounge out. "That's the nastiest drink I've ever had in my life." He said, grimacing. I heard a little squeal, but ignored it. Probably some couple doing the nasty. "I'm done." Said Keaton, walking off. We didn't even try to stop him. "I knew we shouldn't have pushed him." I groaned. Wesley shrugged. "Whatever." I heard two guys yelling, and I turned around to see that Keaton was one of them. "Geez, only one drink and he's already in a bar fight." Said Wesley, getting off his stool, and going after Keaton. I followed.
"Don't. Freaking. Touch her. Creeper." Keaton was sitting on some guy's chest, punching him in the face repeatedly. Wesley and I somehow managed to pull him off. "Dude, what the hell?" I hissed. Keaton was the quiet, awkward, nice kid. What had gotten into him? "He grabbed Quinn's ass and she's piss drunk, the freaking sicko." Growled Keaton, lunging for him again. I sighed. "Keaton, Quinn isin't even he-" Wesley stopped talking, and stared into the distance. I followed his gaze, to see a crying Quinn, sitting on the dirty floor, sobbing her eyes out. I let go of Keaton, not caring if he beat the guy to a pulp, and went over to her. "Quinn, what're you doing here?" She sniffled, and shrugged. "Dosen't matter." She muttered. Then, I realised. She was the girl I saw when we walked in.
"Quinn, what happened?" She started crying even harder. "I made a deal with a high school friend...drank my damn ass off for her to delete the article, now the floor's fucking spinning." Keaton ran over in concern, wrapping her in a hug. "Shh...it's ok..." He whispered, rubbing her back gently. "If I never made that video, this wouldn't have happened. I can't deal with this shit...Keaton, you wouldn't have been hospitalised after that flight. Both of you wouldn't have gotten beat up by Wesley after prom. I would have never gotten into all this famous people stuff."
"Hey, what's goi-Quinn? Oh my gosh, are you ok?" Wesley wrapped his arms around her, despite the fact that she was still hugging Keaton, who looked very uncomfortable. "Group hug!" I yelled, piling on. Some random drunk chick also joined the hug, giggling. "You're not in the group. Sorry." Whispered Keaton. She walked away, hugging random people, tripping over her heels. "I'm kind of being squished between Keaterpan's shoulder and Wesley's chest, I can't breathe..." Slurred Quinn. I carried her over my shoulder. "We need to get her out of here." Muttered Wesley. Keaton dug around her back, and fished out her car keys, which were to the Range Rover we got her all those years ago. I smiled at the memory.
We walked into the parking lot. "I'll drive her car and follow you guys." Said Keaton, walking towards her car. When we got to the car, we put Quinn in the backseat. "Wes, stay with her in the back, I'll just drive around until she sobers up. There's no way in hell that we're going back to the hotel, there are probably fans hanging around there." I drove the car out of the parking lot, and tossed my phone to the back. "Wes, call someone to pick her up." The sounds of the dial tone filled the car. "Hello?" Croaked a voice.
"Hey, it's Wes, Quinn is drunk off her ass."
"WHAT?!?"
Well, that's one way to put it.
