II. White Blank Page

It happened every 18th of July.

Nathan sat at the pub's bar in the mist of darkness. Accompanied only a bottle of liquor and two shots of tequila. The basketball star clasped a small shot glass and pushed it against taunt lips. Cold liquid dumped into his mouth, spiraling pass his uvula. Vodka numbed his body - a tranquilizer of sorts. Gushing bubbly burned the apex of his throat and sizzled against his larynx. A series of coughs attested to choking yet he remained claim. "Ahm, Ahmmm…"

Jet black tresses flung forward as his fist hit the bar. Crrrsk! large grippers banged the wooden countertop loudly. But no one gave a damn. He blended well with the Average Joes currently dancing in the Blue Post. Their bodies were mashed together in search of sweaty solace. Wide hips ground seductively into jutting pelvises oozing of heated sex and lust. The scent was tangy and smothering but filled him with a sense of belonging.

One alcoholic to a hundred others, green liquor splashed onto the wooden dance floor. Fuck him, he was drunk as hell. Red, yellow and green light projectors danced overhead with the grace of swaying angels. Flickers, in and out, darkness raced away from the blinding display. Cool baby blues started at the rays bouncing from his shot glass. Hues sparkled from the glass reflection into acute pupils. From the glass, he could make out tiny forms dancing once again every so slowly.

All the same, except a beautiful female in the oddest shade of green.

Haley. Jamie. Both. Haunted. Him.

"JAMIE!" - "DADDY, HELP ME!" - "HE'S GOT MY SON!"

Fear. Panic. Tears. Nathan bomb rushed through the crowded mall lobby, muscular arms shoving bodies left and right. Unforgivable strength arose from nervous adrenaline, sharp elbows slammed into oncoming traffic. Hundreds of citizens barricaded the NBA star from his son's little form. Tangled limps transformed into a anti-forgeable wall between the desperate father and his child. Yet and still, the raven haired male raced down the mall pathway.

He couldn't breath, pressure was strangling his lungs. Jamie… no GOD! What if his little boy was taken by a murder or a rapist? Food pushed up his esophagus in disgust and dizziness stole his breath but heavy feet were relentless. Blue irises welled with salty libation and the younger Scott Brother's vision blurred. Human after human, little blondes his sons age. Almost involuntarily, the male grabbed a little boy. Gigantic Hands clamped down on a small child whom gasped, "Argh!"

"Jamie! Please be, Jamie." Yanked the little boy around, only for him to cry out. "Let go of me."

A blonde female beside him yelled. "Let go of my Son!"

Immediately, a leather purse swung out at him. SMACK! It punched into his left eye at an angle. Pain burst over his entire face from the contact point. Massive hands clasped over his wounded eye following a terrible yet silent wince. The woman quickly grabbed her son and raced away. Nathan stampeded backwards before doubling over in pain. Screams exploded from a haggard vocal cord!

"JAMIE! SOMEONE HELP ME! MY SON HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED!"

A few strangers pointed at him, "Isn't that NBA star, Nathan Scott?"

For the first time in his life, fame meant nothing.

There was nothing he could do.

His back stiffened, stillness encompassing his body. Did she still blame him as much as he blamed himself? If he hadn't turned his back for that second, hadn't been signing autographs… GOD, he should have killed himself a long time ago. Droplets flooded his eyes and the athlete turned around slowly. Each inch he moved, her name came out, "Hay-" breath. "Lee…I-"

"You're weak!" Punch after punch struck his chest. "You lost our little boy! You're just a weak human being. A horrible father."

"Haley?" Meek whimpers. Or was it Brooke? "B?"

Once he turned towards the female fully, his day dream was shattered. There was no brunette before him, but a blonde. It hit him like a stack of bricks… the rage. He wanted her to be her. His savior. His compass. Thick brows furrowed as the skinny blonde elbowed him with a sharp bone. Stinging ebbed the contact point but the male was too intoxicated.

Eyeing her, "What the fuck, Peyton?"

"Nice to see you too, boozy." Green irises rolled none too happy to see him. "I'm looking for my husband." Boney fingers tugged at the flimsy green dress which draped over her slender figure. The baggy t-shirt dress was accent by a belt. "He left last night and-"

"Fuck if I know." He dropped the 'F' bomb causally whilst tossing a flimsy hand up to stop her talking. Peyton made a slight growling sound, grr, But Nathan insisted, "How about checking outside Brooke's window? I bet that's where you'll find him - dead… cause if she doesn't kill him. I will."

Was he insinuating that they-?

No, he couldn't be. Blonde curls where grabbed by uncertain hands. It was a reflex she'd developed upon realizing her husband was no longer involved in their marriage ((years ago)). Yet and still, she twirled the masses intensely. Boggling eyes stared at the empty shot glass of vodka enviously. She hadn't touched a drop since Lucas sobered up and now she wanted nothing more than to taste it.

"You're wrong about Lucas. He loves me."

The NBA star stared at her. Icy eyes fluttered ingeniously before laughter bubbled in his belly. The jock attempted to withhold his chuckled but it was too much. "PuHahahahah!" He keeled over, slapping his knee nonsensically, "Oh damn, you are so frickin' delusional. You are like the poster child for idiocy."

There was no way to misconstrue his meaning. Nathan was convinced that her husbands was after her estranged BFF. The thought added fuel to an already raging fire. The bitch in her reared its ugly head, leaning over his masculine build. A sickly voice, so wretched it hurt, hissed an angry tirade over the pub's chatter. "You're one to talk about idiocy. Says the guy who lost his kid in the mall."

Low Blow.

"I hope you die."

xXx

ZRRRoom, grey smoke chocked up from the mustang's exhaust into the hot summer heat. Lucas' sixty-four classic came to halt just outside his mother's former café. The café now labeled CoB for his ex-lover's boutique. Flaxen locks dipped over the steering will as the blonde lowered his forehead on the patented leather steering wheel. Heat burnt him at the touch as golden rays beat down from the sun onto the curves of the vintage vehicle.

Red refractions beamed from the car onto the clear display windows of the store strip. It was a deep red, so deep that in contrast green palm trees appeared almost yellow. The towering plants flopped wildly in the distance, lining the sidewalk to provide shade for pedestrians. Those very pedestrians walked the stretch staring at the shiny vehicle curiously. Tangled limbs loosely slung their groceries in one arm whilst the other pointed at the blonde.

"You're lying'…"

Back and forth, they pushed and pulled. Rage charged bulging muscles until he was unable to control his strength. Massive hands gripped tiny shoulders and shook her harshly. The world quaked, shattered, spun all around the crying fashionista. Slap! Slap! Head jerked loudly and certainly painfully. Brooke's neck wrenched into a tight knot that seemed to be stabbed by dull blades. Scorching pounds beat against her cerebellum. A dull ache washed over her body until it became numb.

Pain. All of her senses were thrust from her body with the exception of touch and smell. Alcohol, it lay beneath his breath aiding his psychosis. Since Lindsey left him he'd been relying on the substance to avoid the pain. And tonight, standing in her darkened living room the venomous beverage transformed him into a crazed maniac. He'd sworn he would never lay a hand on her yet he couldn't resist the urge to

stop the lies.

"Its not yours! The baby is not yours!"

Lies.

All Lies.

They both knew it. Firm fingers dug into her skin - seemingly holding on for dear life. Brittle nails sliced half-moons in her skin the further he dragged them backwards towards the couch. His leg hit the base of the sofa as if to cripple him even more. Barking, hatred spat at her. Tiny hands swung out at him viciously. Sharp nails managed to scratch hairy biceps once or twice. He winced aloud but was too incensed to release her.

Voluptuous lips parted in a semi-scream, "Get the Fuck off me!"

"Sssh! You're lying!" Love begged her not to break his heart. "You wouldn't hurt me like that!"

Bitterly, angrily the blonde yanked the brunette off the floor so that they were face to face. Tiny legs flailed as her body rose in the sky. It was only then she recognized the true extent of his strength - he could crush her. Fear rippled inside her but the warrior in her accepted the challenge. Tight jeans forced shapely legs into submission. Nevertheless, Brooke kicked at him in tears, Chanel pumps barely even reaching his knee cap.

"St-st-stop it!"

"Than admit the truth."

"Ugh," he groaned into the steering wheel. Part of him wished he had gone home last night instead of drive around recklessly. However… A blonde head full of hair bobbed upwards at the sight of an eleven year old sporting a Mohawk. Blue eyes stared through his windshield as the little boy pushed through the Clothes Over Bro's entrance way. His left hands shoved the door open, right occupied by a green and black skateboard. Pudgy fingers waved towards the exit as he stepped from the door way.

Skateboard hitting the chalky sidewalk, the little boy placed one foot on the board. Behind him, his mother's pink CoB original swished with her jogging pace. Click, clack, he could literally hear those six inch heels tearing up the hard wood floor. Palms he imagined were still soft as satin pushed the door open once more. Brooke stuck her head from the doorway, smile simply adorable.

"HEY MA!" His raspy tenor was unmistakable. "Going to Ryan's to play Xbox Live! I'll be back in a few!"

"Be careful, Rockstar. And I expect you here at one sharp!"

12:00, he couldn't help notice his gold Rolex ticking away slowly. The watch urged him to use this keen opportunity to talk to Brooke. After all, it was she whom summoned the Scott family back to Tree Hill.

"Alright, Ma. Love Ya."

"Love you too, Big Man."

He looked up only to notice Kalian rolling down the block on his skateboard. Blonde brows furrowed when he turned to CoB, the Fashionista scuttled back inside nonchalantly. How dare she after all she had done to them? Pushing off his steering wheel, the Brooder pulled his car keys from the ignition. One hand shoved the keys into his blue jean pockets whilst the other grabbed his door handle. Huge fingers wrapped around the latch before snapping it open.

Broad shoulders pushed against the door causing it to swing into the road. Swoosh! Thank GOD there was no oncoming traffic. Long legs climbed from the lowered seat into the roadway. Bright pupils narrowed into a squint upon targeting the boutique entrance. He jogged up the sidewalk, hoping he looked more confident and cool than he felt. Nerves trembled tough posture until he shook uncontrollably. Fuck, he wished he hadn't worn those old jeans from three years ago.

Ratty holes were enlarged in the whitewashed material. However, he strutted up to the glass door. Reading the sign: CLOSED. If she was anything like she was in high school… Both hands gently pressed against the door. The glass entrance swung open, cold air smacking him in the face. "Get yourself together, man."

DINNNG! DINNNG!

The bell chimed at his entrance.

"We're-" Closed. Words died on her lips as eye contact was established. She stood behind the counter in front of a backdrop of purple. It made her stand out, feel isolated amongst the couture clothing. Through the store drowned in fabric and material she was clearly naked under his glare. Lucas couldn't hide his hatred for the brunette. The day she revealed their baby was indeed just her baby was the day his love turned into pure hate.

But the yearning, the resentment, everything was still passionate.

That never died.

Nor did the mutual attraction. Damn, he still looked hot… scruffy beard so rugged and his chiseled abdomen imprinted under his summer thermal. Brooke felt the tension building as did her former lover. Out of nowhere, the petite brunette slipped into the pathway of his vision.

"Brooke." Spite followed the exclamation. Spite returned although she had no right to be upset. If he had come here to fight, she would give him hell. "Lucas. We're closed."

Seriously? Seriously! How was it that she made him feel like shit? Beautiful as always, her face and demeanor were filled with annoyance and a hint of disgust. Looking him over, hazel eyes traveled the length of his body. Every ascension of her gaze was reinforced by a deepening sneer. Suddenly, Lucas was severely embarrassed for coming to the boutique of famous Fashion icon, Brooke Davis.

"Well?" Brooke changed positions, hand right hand leaving her hip to glossy hair. A tiny hand slipped into vibrantly sun kissed silk. Dark Persian tresses filtered through the large spaces of her fingers. The petite brunette stood with a warning on her pose, almost encouraging a confrontation. "What are you doing here? "

If she were going to be defensive, so was he.

"You called me remember?"

The blonde turned up chapped lips into a disgusted smirk. Firm hands snaked into either side of his pockets. Thick jean material scraped the coarse flesh of his palms, though he managed to tuck his fidgeting hands into the thin slits. "To fund for the pity party Nathan is throwing himself in Jamie's honor. Its just disgusting!"

Hazel eyes glared and Brooke moved forward. Lucas watched her long, shapely legs spread towards him. Click! Click! Click… Heavy heels beat down on the pale tile. A predatory gaze captured his body as she circled him. Carefully the brunette vixen paced pass Couture racks always staying at least five feet away from him. The firm bodied male followed her around in the circle, turning to meet her eyes rotation.

"Says the drunk." Brooke's growl was met with a shrug. She halted in front of him, standing in front of the clearance rack. The conversation currently transpiring was starting to really piss her off, "Look, Nathan is a good man and I will not let you-"

"Oh Cry me a fucking river!" As if the devil himself possessed him, Lucas snapped, "He's a pathetic, cheating, stupid bastard and you know it. I'd be surprised if Kailan didn't end up a dumb douche like his father!"

Oh the irony in that statement…

"Or worse, somewhere dead like Jamie."

Operation 'Shut Brooke Up' Accomplished.

Fuck, she couldn't take it anymore. Nathan was good father and to say such a thing was a spit in the face. Rage boiled in the deepest corners of her body. Heat cast over the sexy vixen with the force of a tsunami. At her side, both hands curled inward. His fist clenched, nails biting hard into the palms of her hand. The anger in her wouldn't settle down anymore. Everything in her screamed to slap him, to make him pay for being so crude.

Both fist beat against her hips in agitation, "GET OUT OF MY STORE!"

Lucas could feel his own rage beating within her chest. Right eyebrow rising in contempt, the blonde yelled at her, "What? The truth too much for you, Brooke! Can't deal with it! You're skanking it up with a dumb-shit! But what would I expect from You! Does Kailan know his mother is a whor-"

He knew he'd gone too far but…

SLAP! SLAP! Two flattened palms struck him fit of rage that could only be described as hysterics.

A haze of auburn curls surrounded his body like a blinding curtain followed by fierce fist. Hard nails were on the attack, searing for his skin and everything it possessed. Lucas threw up his hands, covering his face protectively. Brooke punched and slapped at him with all her strength. The tiny fist felt like little pieces of rock slamming into his torso, hard and stabbing.

Tight little pinches sprayed his hairy arms, as sharp nails scratched his skin. Ducking and dodging her little fist of fury, Lucas struggled to recoil. Shoulder blades slammed back against the doorframe, barely missing the exit. The problem was that he was now the one trapped between Brooke and the display window. What he did notice, however, was the open space below her arms. Taking a risky chance, Lucas lowered his defenses and darted out at her.

The sudden movement caught Brooke off guard, her arms reflexively wrapping around her body for protection. Long fingers clasped around her waist, just above her wide hips. Lucas could feel her hot flesh, the trembling of her body from his touch. He had won, but not for long. Rage came back, and before Lucas could completely sedate her, Brooke's hands flew out at him.

"FUCK YOU, YOU BASTARD!" Pressing her hands into his shoulders, Brooke pounded her flat hands against his chest. Red tangles whirled around in the air as she screamed, "I HATE YOU! YOU'RE TRASH!"

"I HATE YOU MORE!" Voice menacing and raw like the grating of fingernails against a chalkboard. "YOU CHEATED WITH MY BROTHER!"

Brooke twisted in his arms, literally trying to punch his head off. Sharp nails scrapped into his skin. GOD, if any passing customers had seen this altercation, they might have called the cops. His arms were aching, wrapped around her waist so tightly he knew she had to be in pain. But he couldn't let her go…ever! So his arms held fast, heart thumping ferociously against his chest.

"Shut up you, EMO Drama King!" The Fashionista kneed him in the stomach. Quickly, he secured her legs by pinning them to his chest. She demanded, "Put me down! Put me down so I can rip you Adam's apple from your throat."

Pink skirts flared up in his face, porcelain skin reveal to his touch. Warm flesh blessed his coarse fingertips and the Brooder attempted to vary away from her. But her scent of kiwi and a raspberry blend was suffocating him. Yet and still, he held her ass up in the air. Tiny legs wiggled and it was then he felt that sense of deja vi.

Only this time he wasn't drunk and Brooke Penelope Davis was the crazy one.

"PUT HER DOWN! PUT MY MOTHER DOWN!"

Kailan's voice didn't come into play until Lucas felt the eleven year old's fists pounding into his lower back. POW! POW! Small fist made heavy contact, sharp pain bruising the Brooder's spin. Accompanied with Brooke's own series of blows, the Editor lost his balance. Both knees buckled and Lucas went crumbling down with the brunette on top of him. Tangling arms slammed into his chest harshly.

The brunette straddled her enemy whilst both hands punched at his chest. Lucas tried to grab her wrist but she was too quick. The battle royale was far from over when the spitting image of both his parents grabbed his mother by the shoulders. Gently, he tugged her from her victim and sat her on the floor. All the while Brooke struggled to get to him.

"Get off him, Ma." His bushy MoHawk wavered with intent. Both adults looked up at the towering tween. His eyes were red with disgust. "What is wrong with you? The both of you? Fighting like you're three years olds."

There lay, two of the most important people in his life fighting like children. He might have been a lot of things but the child never expected to be the adult. And now he would never get to know his Uncle because of this… never have a complete family. What would his father think? Kailan shook his head, adjusting his grey hoodie. Pursed lips swore under his breath.

"RockStar, I'm sorry." Pink lips cooed, "Kai-"

"Don't Ma…" Kailan folded his arms over his chest. "I don't know what to say to you. I get in trouble for beating up Kevin McFadden but you can beat up my f-"He stuttered, catching the mistake as Lucas started at him intently. "my father's brother. That's not right."

Blue eyes shifted to the only blonde in the room. Lucas pushed up on his elbows before picking himself up from the floor. Simultaneously, Brooke stood but her eyes were shifting from boy to man. Barred teeth bit down on her lip nervously. They shouldn't have been in the same room together let along staring each other down. Yet, the little Davis puffed out his chest to show his masculinity.

"And You. Stay away from my mother."

Lucas nodded before casting a murderous glare at Brooke. There was no way in hell he was staying away from her. "I'm sorry, little man. I wasn't trying to hurt your mother."

"I-" BUZZZ! BUZZZ! BUZZZ! Vibrations echoed throughout the store once again interrupting the designer. From her storage office, the store phone buzzed noisily. BUZZZ! BUZZZ! BUZZZ! With the benefit happening, there was no time for stalling. She hated to leave her son alone with him but she had no choice. Gorgeous legs spread, abandoning the older and younger Scott males to their own devices.

"I truly am sorry." Deep tenor acknowledge before turning to leave. Kailan glanced back at the direction his mother disappeared in. "Uncle Lucas, I know you are sorry. I know that."

Strong legs halted mid-step. "You do?"

Kailan thrust little hands into his pocket in a familiar fashion. "Yes, and that why I want to get to know you. Other than the awesome gifts you send on Christmas. I'd like to know you. As my uncle and maybe as-"

"A friend?"

"Yeah, a friend."

xXx

FashionBaller23's Newest Blog Update: How I Meet Your Father

Gammy think's I'm going to delete my blog - well she's really off her old lady rocker. Its not like some big name editor will read this and go - wow, I know who this is… LOL, seriously I have a better chance of being struck by lightening. So, in other words, I'm going to keep updating about my life.

And to Today, gees, today was like Mortal Combat and Call of Duty + the Super Mario Smash Brothers = Crazy Weird/fantastic. My family is so weird. I have My Mom, lets call her Padme and My Uncle is Anikan Skywalker whom is really Darth Vader. My Dad is Uncle Obi Wan… see, Its insane. And today Padme and Anikan reacted the last screen of Revenge of the Sith and I got to say it was horrible.

But I met my 'possible' bio dad - if indeed my real Dad isn't my bio dad.

I'm stomped.

But that's how I met My father.

Sawyer gripped her cell phone close to her eyes. It was hard to see on the small screen when she was so used to her laptop. But, her father had ruined her virtual life and she was forced to make do. Thus, she read the interesting blog of the North Carolina celebrity brat currently storming the internet. There was a small group starting the FASHION BALLER 23 witch-hunt and the tween wanted to join.

What else was there to do in that sleepy old town?