Mr. Illinois (a Pete Wentz Fan Fiction)

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Damon's POV

I stood silently to side as Nate yelled at the hotel staff and police officers.

"Sir, you need to calm down," they instructed.

"It's been 18 hours!" he exclaimed.

"And Ms. Fields is an adult. Has it occurred to you that maybe she spent the night with the man she left with?" the officer suggested. He was getting very annoyed.

"Natasha isn't like that!"

Well, he hasn't seen her in a while. The woman had obviously tried to clean up her image, but I knew she wasn't. Her hair had a slight blue tinge, like she re-dyed he hair a natural color, and she had a nose and lip ring, but took them out. Natasha was a wild spirit.

"The f-" someone behind me said and I turned towards them.

There was a flash of bluish hair and they ducked behind a column.

I walked over and saw both adults, Fields and Illinois, pressed up against the square column.

"Hello, Damon," she greeted me quietly.

Tattoos looked confused.

"This is Damon, he's the driver from yesterday," Natasha whispered.

"I got that," he muttered.

"Nate is freaking out about you," I told her.

"We can tell by the yelling," she retorted.

"And the cops," her friend added.

"Damon! Where the hell are you?!" Craig screamed and walked over. "I told you- Nat...?"

"Hi, Nathan," she plastered a fake smile on her face.

"Thank god you're okay! I was so worried about you!" he exclaimed.

She slid closer to Illinois and interlocked their fingers.

My boss glared at him.

"Well, I'm fine. I was just with my friend," she explained stiffly.

Craig looked tattoos over disapprovingly and started speaking in a different language.

Fields responded angrily in the same language using a string of swear words.

They continued to argue some more and tats came up to me.

"Do you understand any of this?"

"Nothing other than your friend is really mad."

He chuckled and we watched them argue some more.

Natasha's POV

"Friend?" Nate looked at Illinois with a disgusted look. "He's a thug. I bet he just wants to get in your pants."

"He's not a thug, Nathan!" I yelled back. "You are judging him by his looks! And I can tell you he is very nice, unlike you asshole!"

"Natalia-" he began.

"Don't call me that."

"It's the name your parents gave you."

"And they don't speak to me anymore," I said coldly.

The anger dissipated for a second, but then came back. "What the hell did you do to earn that?!"

"I was myself! They wanted me to be the perfect little girl and guess what? I'm not!"

Someone walked up to us. "Sir, ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to please be quiet," he said.

"Yes, I'm sorry," I apologized back in English.