LiFEGUARD BY DAY
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- Posted: Thu, 25 Sep 2008 04:00:49 +0000
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NATHAN LEE CRAYFORD
❝ the BEST MAN ❞
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❝ the BEST MAN ❞
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- Nate's hand was shaking as he signed the credit card receipt, grateful for what felt like the first time in years that he was Nate Crayford. He'd never realized how much weight his name held and how much power was in the simple plastic of his credit card. And really, focusing on that, focusing on controlling the muscles in his body and steadying his breathing, was the only thing that kept him from losing it completely. If he thought about what he just saw and what it would mean for his life, he didn't know what he would do, but it wouldn't bode well for the safety of anyone and everyone in the immediate area.
"Thank you for staying with us, Mr. Crayford. Is there anything else we can do for you here?"
Nate pressed the already blood - sodden towel to his aching hand, not completely immune to the stares he was receiving from passing guests. Undoubtedly they didn't see s**t like this all the time in proper, classy England. "I don't suppose you guys transport luggage? I don't feel like going back to the room I just left."
"Of course. Would you -- "
And then, midway through stuffing his credit card back in his pocket, Nate heard it. The odd, shuffling step of a guy who'd just gotten the crap beat out of him, and unless someone else had just been beat down, it had to be the one guy Nate wanted to see least in the world. And sure enough. . .
"I don't expect you to ******** understand." Was this kid crazy? He'd just gotten his a** handed to him and now he was coming back for more, asking Nate to thank him, defending his actions? "You've never loved anyone but yourself. You've never cared about anyone but your own a**. Friends? Girlfriends? It doesn't matter to you. It's all about Ben ******** Luthor. You're the last person I'd ever want to be. No one respects you. No one likes you. You're not good for anything to guys, you're only a ******** to girls, and you'll never be happy." God, he wanted to hit him again. His hand, already aching, curled into a fierce fist, but he had a reputation to uphold. He'd hit a guy in private, but never in public. "Don't you ******** preach to me about s**t you don't understand. Go ******** Bella. Go ******** Blair. And go ******** yourself, Ben. You're worthless."
The bellhop who'd been summoned to take Nate's bags stared, open - mouthed. Nate forced a trembling smile. "There a bar around here?" He pointed, and Nate followed the gesture. It didn't matter it was only past eleven in the morning. If he ever needed a drink, he needed it then.





