Air Brushed

Doll Face

Prologue:

I've been running for so long... so long...

My heart drums against the inside of my chest, blood roaring in my ears. My body is giving up, but I know I can't. Keep running. Keep running. Keep running.

They're right behind you.

I can still hear their calls.

"We see you, Little Man!" they say. "We'll string you up in the square so Tommo can see you too!"

Man, if I get out of this alive, Tommo will kill me.

Keep running. Keep running. Keep running.

The balls of my feet pound against the pavement, the sound reaching my ears just as they hit the concrete again. There are five of them- at least. One is no match for me, but any more than three and I am dead meat.

"You can't run forever, you little shit!" one of them calls.

The distance is getting larger between us, I can tell. What I lack in numbers and strength I make up for in speed and agility.

Suddenly, at the end of the alley, I can see six more.

No. There is only one place left to go, but it is a dead end.

I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand! How did I let myself get boxed in?!

Dead meat, that's what I am now. If I let them corner me, I'll be done for, but there is NO OTHER WAY!

I hook a sharp right into the shorter alley, seeing the doors and windows of the run-down houses pass by. Maybe I can break into one of those-

However, before my thought has even completed itself, the brick wall is before me.

Too high. Too solid. I'm dead.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Air-brushed (verb):

1. to alter or conceal (a photograph or a detail in one) using an airbrush.

2. to represent or describe (someone or something) as better or more beautiful than they in fact are.


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Chapter 1: Doll Face

Today is the day I will tell him I love him, that boy across the hall.

Well, he isn't a boy anymore. No, now he is Liam Payne- excuse me, DETECTIVE  Payne. Muscular, tan, kind, more handsome than what should be legal in the scale of handsome-ness and too much so for anyone regarding their own good.

We had lived next to each other for a few years now in an apartment complex in uptown Doublet, New York.

It is a metropolis containing about seven million people and I just happen to live next to the most attractive person on the face of the planet.

Who knew?

After my parents died three years ago, they left me the place and at the age of nineteen, I was left to fend entirely for myself. It didn't turn out too bad actually. I survived... mostly.

Despite the state of his appearance, Liam was always a massive help in the most innocent of ways. He did lots of little things like check on me every day and get the mail when I forgot.

We would sometimes have dinner together too.

We would take turns cooking, though I would usually just buy us take out from a place down the street. Today, he will come home at four o'clock because it is Tuesday and as he daubed it to me a few months ago, Tuesday is "Finishing Paperwork Day."

Usually, he would get home at six or seven after putting final touches on a case either for the day or for good, but today is different.

I wait by the peep hole, leaning against the door and only moving my gaze to check my watch. Four thirty two. Any minute now...

Suddenly, I can hear the sound of his boots coming up the stairs and my heartbeat accelerates. I bend down and pick up my laundry basket, hand on the door knob, ready to walk out at the perfect time, but act like it is a coincidence.

Yeah it's kind of weird, but we've all done it before. Don't lie.

There is no doubt in my mind that it's him. I can always tell.

His boots make a specific sound on the fake marble stairs. It isn't a "clunk" or a "plop," but a more distinctive sound, like a "clopt."

Liam liked to take the stairs instead of the elevator, said he enjoyed the exercise after sitting at a desk all day. I can sympathize, but since I had never had a desk job before-

He appears around the corner holding a manila folder, digging in his pockets for his keys. Alright, here goes.

My door squeaks open, the hinges not having been taken care of in a while, and I step into the short hallway, closing the door, turning around, and giving a surprised, "Oh! Good evening, Liam. You're home early."

Really, he's late, but he doesn't need to know that I know.

"Brooke! What a sight for sore eyes," he stops and turns to greet me with a friendly hug. "How have you been?"

"You know, same old, same old," I shrug, resting the laundry basket leisurely against my hip. "Still looking for a job and trying to figure out what to eat for dinner. How was your day?"

"Rather long, actually," he runs his fingers through his perfect hair. "Are you going to the basement?"

I look toward the dirty clothes and wrinkle my nose, "Yeah."

The building is ten stories high from the ground up and rather nice, but washers and dryers are not allowed in the individual rooms, they are provided in the basement. Another way to make money I guess.

"Well give me a second. I've been meaning to get some laundry done too. Stay right there," he instructs and quickly opens his door, leaving it ajar, to rush inside and back out. He rejoins me in about forty five seconds with his hamper and the manila folder in hand.

Liam, in those eternal moments he spent away from me, had taken off his black overcoat to reveal a white button down shirt. Damn. How he can make average business man attire look so good? Dark red tie, black slacks, and those exceptionally FINE leather boots. Kill me now.

Usually, I would have taken the elevator, but since he likes the stairs, stairs it will be.

We walk side by side at a slow pace, my eyes fighting with my wild emotions to stay on him versus looking down at my feet.

When should I tell him? Now? When we got downstairs? No, that's too soon. What if he didn't reciprocate my feelings? Then the walk back would be more than awkward. Maybe I'd just take the lift then. Or should I tell him when we get back? That might be good. It would give me a chance to run away instantly if things turn south.

Liam clears his throat, interrupting my thoughts.

He speaks with a sureness, voice perfect like everything else about him, that makes me want to melt, "Right. Well, Brooke, I have a surprise for you."

A surprise?

I know my face turned bright red, so I allow myself to look down. Plaid pajama pants, well fitting band t-shirt, just-the-right-amount-of-messy bun. The perfect level of I don't care how I look. Yeah. Alright. I appear good enough, considering I spent an hour in the bathroom getting ready for this.

Okay. Breathe. I smile, "Really, you didn't need to do anything for me."

"No, this is about a job," he slips the manila folder from under his arm and hands it to me. "My friend at the office has a brother that works downtown in a bar. I know it's not the ideal occupation, but they were looking for help and I thought I'd pass it by you."

"Seriously?" I take the folder, flicking it open and skimming the words as we reach a landing. Liam stops and waits for me. "Thanks! I've been looking for a job for... for like forever!"

"I know, I remembered," he smiles his perfect smile as we get to the ground floor.

"You did?" my voice is airy, truly flattered. He remembered?

Liam responds as we reach the entry to the basement staircase, having walked across the first floor room with the front desk, bell hop, and manager's office. He holds the door open for me, "Course I did. How could I forget?"

How could you NOT?

"All that drama at work and you take the time to remember such a little detail about me?" I bite my bottom lip, unable to even look in his vicinity.

"Little? Brooklyn Oswald, being jobless is not little," his tone is light, playful, but his meaning is serious. I just about faint. I love it when he says my name in his perfect voice, letters being formed by those perfect lips. "Besides, you're my friend and I look out for my friends."

"Thanks, this really means a lot," I tuck the folder under my arm as we approach the washing machines. Throwing my batch of clothes in, I set the timer and look back at my companion. "I really don't know how to, erm, properly express my gratitude."

Liam rubs his chin, which is clearly a nervous action, "I was thinking we could go get dinner... tonight maybe?"

"Oh, yeah-! Yes, absolutely," I correct myself. Liam is a man of class. I have to remind myself not to use slang. "You bought last time so I can either make my famous Panda Express orange chicken or Subway teriyaki sandwich. Which ever one you feel like having."

"No, actually, I was hoping we could go out somewhere," Liam's chin scratch becomes a back of the neck scratch. "And then maybe go to that bar afterward so you can check out the place to see if you'd like to work there-"

My mouth opens in a wicked gin, "Detective Payne, are you asking me to get a drink with you?"

"To put it roughly... yes," his smile changes ever so slightly, as if he were cringing. Is he afraid of my answer? Is he afraid I might DECLINE?

I want to burst out laughing and crying at the same time.

He is ASKING ME ON A DATE!

"Of COURSE I'll go," I restrain myself from playfully hitting him.

"Fantastic," Liam obviously loosens up a bit and we continue talking about a case he has been working on. He keeps saying something about a missing persons file, but I'm not really paying attention. All I can think is: date date date date date date.

I'm caught on the fact that I AM GOING ON A DATE WITH LIAM PAYNE.

In the end, I think it worked out well and I didn't have to say ANYTHING.

Two hours, a nice dinner at an Italian restaurant, and a cab ride later, we find ourselves in the shadier part of Doublet. It isn't exactly shady as it is "perpetually dirty." There are weeds that look more like bushes and bushes that look more dead than alive. The walls of the once white buildings seem to breed dirt and other anonymous stains. While all of this is quite charming, I undoubtedly prefer the nicer part of the city, where not everyone appears to want to mug you with every step you take.

"There it is," Liam points, his muscles clearly showing under his white button down. He had grabbed his black overcoat originally, but it is now around my shoulders.

"Seems... nice," I try to put a smile on my face, but really, it looks like every other dive bar I've ever seen.

We walk inside and the place instantly reeks of alcohol, sweat, and vomit.

Nice atmosphere. Yeah, I'm totally kidding, but it's better than my last job. I'd take drunk patrons any day over cleaning toilets, though I could see where those two professions might overlap a bit.

Liam introduces me to the manager, who apparently instantly finds me fascinating.

The place is so loud, I have to ask for his name twice before I give up trying to decipher his words and pick out the first noticeable thing about him, being a chipped front tooth, and ended up calling him Sir.

Chipped Tooth man is nice all in all, though I really can't ever hear half of what he is saying. Eventually, Liam orders us each a drink and sits back in his bar stool.

He has to yell in order to be heard clearly, "SO, WHAT DO YOU THINK?"

I shrug humorously, smoothing out a wrinkle in the white, flower printed dress I wear, "COULD USE A WOMAN'S TOUCH."

Liam gives a laugh, a sound that is magical to me, "I SECOND THAT NOTION."

The bar tender places two drinks between us, one a dark amber color and the other a light pink. The latter is in a martini glass, so I can easily guess which one was mine. Obviously the beer- no I'm totally just kidding. We pick up the drinks and let the rims tap, though the clinking is inaudible over the sounds of people talking, people laughing, and sports teams winning or losing.

"LET ME TALK TO THE MANAGER," Liam points over his shoulder. "I JUST WANT TO GIVE HIM A RECOMMENDATION REGARDING YOUR JOB HERE. I'LL BE BACK IN A MOMENT."

"WHILE YOU DO THAT, I NEED SOME AIR. I'LL BE RIGHT OUTSIDE," I nod towards the door and he places his hand on my shoulder, a tender motion, mouthing, 'be safe.'

We part ways and I walk out of the stuffy bar, into the crisp night air.

I take a few breaths, getting the alcohol smell out of my nose and letting the smog smell in. I sigh. Maybe now I'd appreciate my apartment building's location a bit more. Running my fingers through my hair, I lean back against the wall. Dinner and a drink. I think it could have gone a bit better, but isn't that the case with most things?

Liam is such a sweetheart. I have to pay him back someday-

The previously muffled sounds of the bar abruptly rush outward into the night air as the door opens. At first, I think it may be Liam coming to check on me, but instead, four men stroll out. One African American, two Mexican, and one white.

Maybe it's because it happened to be ten o'clock at night and I usually only stay out until nine, or maybe it's that these guys are covered in tattoos- which is stereotypical, yes, but those have to come from somewhere, or maybe it's just the fact that the first one out the door immediately makes eye contact with me THAT ends up creeping the living daylights out of yours truly.

Either way, my alarm bells go off and I set my mind on walking back inside that bar.

Huh, who knew I'd ever think of THAT as a safe place?

I push myself off of the wall and take one step forward before they are in front of me. I hoped they would continue walking, but of course they don't. The guy who had exited first, one of the Mexicans, smiles, inserting himself right in the middle of my path.

This causes me to stop out of surprise.

His voice is rough, "Hey there, doll face. That your boyfriend back inside?"

Boyfriend? Liam? This guy had been PAYING ATTENTION?

Despite Liam's heavy overcoat, I give a small shiver, though don't let the fear reach my face, "That's none of your business."

"Well I'm MAKIN' it my business," he takes a step closer and I involuntarily mirror the move, but bump into something solid. I turn for a quick peek and find that one of the other men had blocked the escape path behind me.

No. This isn't happening. This only happens in messed up movies where the girl gets kidnapped and raped and...

"What do you want?" I ask, my voice sounding more pathetic than I'd like it to.

"How 'bout a name, doll face?" the speaker of the group asks, taking another step closer. By now, we are only a foot apart.

What do I DO?

"How 'bout NO?" I retort mockingly, trying to make my way past him. I have to get back inside. I have to get to Liam. He can protect me.

As soon as we are side by side, the guy grabs my wrist. It's a reflex, I swear, but my free hand comes up to slap him. Sadly, he's faster and seizes it first, but this does me a favor and releases my other hand. That's when I do the only thing that my mind can think of in those few, fast moments while I am consumed by sheer panic.

"Don't you DARE touch me!" my fingernails come up and rake across his face, creating five parallel lines.  Blood starts to bead on his cheek almost instantly. With his fingers still tight around my wrist, he quickly dabs at his face and, upon assessing it, seizes my other forearm and slams me up against the wall.

"Big mistake," he hisses, face mere inches from mine, rancid breath washing into my nose. In the dim street light, I can see every grove of his pock scarred face. He must be in his thirties, maybe forties. "Now you're gonna-"

My mind racing, I know the only goal here is to get out and get away.

My fight or flight reflex switches to the latter and my leg comes up before I am even aware of thinking of the action. The heel of my foot makes quick contact with his crotch and the man instantly falls backwards and doubles over, pain searing across his expression, spittle ejecting from his mouth in surprise.

The larger white guy that had been blocking my path moves forward to help his injured companion, giving me one chance at escape.

I take the opportunity and sprint down the street, away from my safe haven.

Away from the safety of Liam Payne.

I have no clue where I'm going, but I know I have to get away. I run blindly, thankful that I had chosen flats instead of heels. Halfway down the street, it crosses my mind that they might just give up and let me go. Then I can find my phone and call the police or Liam or someone- but my thoughts are wrong.

Rapid footsteps ring out behind me and I steal a glance over my shoulder.

Oh sweet Hester Prynne, mother of Pearl.

"Run, doll face, run!" the man with the scratches on his face shouts and run I do.

"Help!" my blood curdling scream tears across the almost empty, now residential street.

No one comes to my aid.

My golden hair whips across my face, my breathing ragged and sharp, the pain in my feet intolerable. I need to slow down, but what is going to happen if- WHEN they catch me?

Escape seems impossible now. I only have one option, but how long could THAT take? Slinging my purse around so that I can reach inside, I search desperately for my phone. Police. 911. Just a dial away.

Looking down for a moment, not yet having found the device, I turn a sharp left and there's... no. There are six people sprinting into the outlet of the alley. No! No, no, NO!

There is only one way out. I skid as I hang a sharp left again and to my dismay, there sits a brick wall half way down, tall, thick, unbreakable.

Oh. Fuck. Me.