Eli

Los Angeles greets me with the acrid scent of floor cleaner and a bustling crowd surging through the hallways. Liz and I let it sweep us along, all the way to baggage claim.

She's grown more quiet now, her different-coloured eyes -one brown, one blue- darting around, taking in our surroundings.

We wait for our suitcases together and when they finally appear on the belt, I help her wrestle them onto a luggage cart. It squeaks obnoxiously as we walk together, me walking slowly so that she can keep up.

When the arrivals area comes into view, I pull Liz aside. "I think we should separate here."

Liz nods, straightening her back a little. "Alright. Are you good for now? Is there anything I can do?"

I shake my head, the hint of a smile tugging at my lips. "I'm fine, Liz. Don't worry about me."

"You'll call if anything happens, right?"

"Of course."

"Okay... Well, I guess this is good-bye for now," she says and pulls me into a tight hug.

Even though I'm not big on affections, I return it, rubbing a reassuring hand over the small of her back. "It'll be fine, you'll see. And we'll probably see each other again in a few days."

Nodding, she takes a step back. "Yeah, let's hope so." Her eyes search my face for a moment. "Just don't do anything stupid, okay? You should just try to lay low and get accustomed to everything for the first few days, don't just dive head-first into danger."

"Of course not," I lie. Then I grab my suitcase and start walking, only turning around once more to jokingly salute her with two fingers.

As expected, the arrivals area is just as packed as the rest of the airport, dozens of people standing behind the barrier, waving signs with names, holding bouquets and waiting for loved ones. My gaze glides over them, searching for a sign with my name on it, but I can't find it anywhere.

Only when I make it to the end of the aisle, I spot a short man in a suit and walk up to him. "Mr. Scott?" he asks.

"Yes."

"May I see your ID please?"

I slowly take off my backpack and retrieve my wallet, careful to turn away from the man so he doesn't see my camera equipment glinting in the bright light from the neon lamps above. Under his scrutinizing gaze, I pull out my ID and hand it to him. "Here you go."

He studies it for a moment, then he gives it back and grabs my suitcase. "Follow me."

+++

The drive to Nathan Lowe's home takes around thirty minutes. The car is a black Porsche, gliding soundlessly and smoothly over the pavement. The inside smells new, like leather and vinyl.

"Does Lowe own this car?" I ask, unable to hide a tinge of admiration from my voice, and run a finger across the shiny dashboard.

The chauffeur nods. "Yes. He owns two, but he rarely drives them. Too busy of a schedule, as you can probably imagine."

"Sure," I snort. "Must be awful to constantly have to go to parties and events. I can't imagine how stressed he must be."

He doesn't reply, but if the furrow between his brows is anything to go by, he isn't pleased with that statement.

Neither of us says anything after that. I look outside instead, watching the fences grow higher and the houses grow bigger the longer we drive. Palm trees line the street, gently swaying in the breeze. There are only a few cars driving around here, and each of them looks more expensive than the other; Beverly Hills is quieter than I imagined, but even flashier than I thought.

It's infuriating, mainly because I don't understand what the people behind those walls have that makes them deserving of all this.

After a while, I pull out my phone and text my mum, telling her that I landed safely.

She replies right away with a series of heart emojis and I look out of the window and I'm mad because dammit, if those people deserve all this, then so does my family, but that's not how life works and it's not fair.

I'm surprised when we suddenly pull into a driveway. Craning my head to see what lies before us, I ask: "Is this it?"

"Yes."

The house is big, though not as huge as some of the others in this neighbourhood; an illusion of modesty in a world where being modest means owning two Porsches instead of three. How exceedingly humble Nathan Lowe must think he is.

There's an enormous iron gate warding off unwanted guests, and the chauffeur has to punch a code into a keypad. The gate swings open soundlessly, granting us entrance.

A long driveway leads up to the house, which gives me time to take in a few details on our way there; it has two stories, a big balcony, and tons of large windows, a garden surrounding it and a big front door. It's intimidating, to be perfectly honest.

We come to a stop a few feet away from the front door and the chauffeur gets out of the car to open the trunk for me. I take my backpack and my suitcase and look at him. "Thanks for the ride."

"It was a pleasure," he says, his face deadpan. "I'm going to park the car in the garage downstairs. You can go ahead and go inside. Good day, Mr. Scott."

I give him a nod, then I walk up to the door. Up until this point I have managed to stay relatively calm, but now, as my hand reaches out to ring the bell, my heart feels like a bird trapped inside a cage.

Once I step through this door, there's no going back. On the other hand, there really is no going back now, either; the chauffeur is gone, and even if I wanted to, I'd have no idea how to get back to the airport.

So I take one last shaky breath and ring.

The chiming of the bell ricochets through the quiet, and for a few frightening seconds, nothing happens.

Finally, the door swings open.

It's not Nathan Lowe.

It's a short woman wearing a white blouse and a pencil skirt who is studying me over her notepad. "Are you Elijah Scott?"

"That'd be me."

She looks me up and down appraisingly before giving me a tight-lipped smile. "You're late. Come on in."

I square my shoulders and cross the threshold, walking past her into what appears to be a living room. It's huge, the wooden ceiling high above, the polished wooden floor partly covered in ornate rugs.

The woman shuts the door behind her. "My name is Kelly, I am Mr. Lowe's personal assistant, but since you are his guest, I will be taking care of you as well. Unfortunately, he doesn't have a lot of time for you right now, since he only just returned from a meeting and has another appointment in..." She glances at her watch. "About twenty minutes. Perhaps he will come out to greet you in person in a moment, but right now he's busy getting ready."

I shrug. It really doesn't matter if I see him now or later. I'll be spending enough time with him as it is.

Kelly turns around and motions for me to follow her. "First things first," she says, glancing at me over her shoulder, "Let's get you settled in. I don't have enough time to give you a tour through the entire house right now, so I'll just show you to your room and you can explore the rest later, is that alright?"

"Sure."

She halts at the bottom of the stairs and looks at my suitcase. "Would you like me to carry that for you?"

I stare at her in bewilderment. Why on earth would I make a woman who is at least five inches shorter than me carry my luggage up the stairs? Is Lowe really enough of a dick to make his employees do stuff like this? "No, thank you."

Kelly nods and starts climbing the stairs. "Alright. Your room is on the second floor, along with the rooms of Mr. Lowe and his brother, and the room of Naira Itani, who I'm sure you'll be getting to know later." I want to ask who that is, but she doesn't give me time for questions. "Of course you are not allowed to enter those rooms under any circumstances, unless given permission by them. The only rooms you are allowed to be in are your own, your bathroom and the entire first floor. Is that clear?"

"Of course," I say.

We have made it to the second floor now; there are a bunch of doors and the entire wall to our right is made of glass, with a door in the middle that opens onto the balcony. Kelly leads me to the right side of the hall and fishes a set of keys out of her briefcase. I watch as she unlocks the door and pushes it open. "There you are, this is your room."

I walk past her, looking at the room before me in awe. It's furnished pretty sparsely, just a bed, a bedside table, a desk with an accompanying chair, a dresser and a closet, but it's bigger than my entire apartment at home.

"It's the smallest room in this house, seeing as it's only a guest room meant for a short stay... I hope this will work though."

"That's fine," I mutter, too busy staring at the gigantic bed. It's covered in pillows and blankets and I can't wait to face-plant onto the mattress and pass out.

I set my backpack down on the bedside table and leave my suitcase standing next to the bed for now.

Kelly walks over to a small door on the right-hand wall. "Here's your personal bathroom. As I said, it's pretty small, but it should be fine."

I stroll over to her and take a step inside. Even the bathroom is huge for my standards. There's a shower, a toilet, a sink, a shelf filled with fresh towels and what looks like various bottles of shampoo and bodywash. And it has a bathtub. A fucking huge, white bathtub with golden claw-feet. Coming here was the best idea ever.

"It's perfect."

Kelly smiles at me, then she points at my suitcase and asks: "Would you like me to help you unpack?"

I would literally rather die than let a stranger go through my stuff. "No, thank you."

She walks over to the bedside table and lifts my backpack. My camera equipment rattles a little and my heart skips a few beats. "What about this?"

I am by her side within seconds and rip it out of her hand with a little more force than necessary. Kelly looks up at me in surprise, so I try for a polite smile, cursing myself for reacting so suspiciously. "No, that's alright, really. I've got this."

Kelly stares at me for a few more seconds before she finally walks towards the door. "Okay. If you'd please follow me then? I would like you to sign the contract so that the exact terms and conditions of your stay here are clear."

I set my backpack down again and follow her hastily, using the set of keys she has left in the lock to make sure no one can enter. Pocketing it, I catch up with her on the stairs.

She leads me to a room near the front door. My eyes widen when I step inside. It's a huge room with a big wooden table surrounded by chairs, and behind it is a bar. An honest to god bar, complete with a counter and bar stools and a shelf filled with drinks.

"This is the meeting room," Kelly comments as she strides over to the table. "Mr. Lowe sometimes hosts important business associates here, or with other celebrities..."

My eyes wander to my left and I can barely suppress the urge to roll my eyes. There's a showcase filled with awards, all with Lowe's name on them. How fucking conceited does a person have to be to display their achievements like this?

"It's quite impressive, isn't it?" Kelly asks as she notices what I'm staring at. "It was his brother's idea to have the showcase here. He couldn't be prouder of Mr. Lowe."

"I can imagine." I force a smile and join her at the table, where she has now laid out two copies of the contract and a pen.

I read it all carefully once again. There haven't been made any changes to the draft I've been sent, so I sign it pretty quickly.

"Thank you," Kelly says and neatly files one copy in her binder, leaving the other for me. "Do you have any questions?"

"Not right now."

"Alright." She starts walking again, out of the door and back into the entry area. While doing so, she fishes a notebook out of her bag and flips it open to a marked page. "Now, before I go I'd like to quickly go over tomorrow's plans. Basically, we've had the idea to-"

Loud footsteps interrupt her and my head instinctively snaps up to look at the source of the noise.

Coming down the stairs is none other than Nathan Lowe.

He's clad in a navy suit, his hair gelled back neatly; everything from the tips of his polished shoes to the silken tie around his neck is screaming power and wealth. "Sorry, Kelly, I'm ready now", he says without looking up from the Rolex he's busy clasping around his wrist. "It took longer to get ready than expected because they scheduled this meeting on such short notice and none of the stylists are free today... God, I can't even tie a tie properly on my own and my hair-"

The words die in his throat as he finally glances up and his eyes land on me.

I casually lift one hand in greeting, not even trying to hold back an amused smirk.

I can see Lowe swallowing once, then he quickly rushes down the remaining steps. He comes to a stop in front of me and I realize that he's shorter than I imagined him to be, his head only coming up to my chin. Just for a second he seems like he isn't sure how to greet me, but then he settles on stretching a hand out for me to shake.

"I'm sorry about that. Way to make a first impression," he mutters. Unexpectedly, there's a faint blush creeping up his neck. "You must be Elijah. Uh... I'm Nathan."

I pull my hand back and stuff it into the pocket of my jeans, raising a brow at him. "You don't say."

The blush intensifies and I can't deny that I'm feeling a little bit smug watching the pop star squirm, studying his face carefully. Nathan Lowe has bright blue eyes which are peeking at me through ridiculously long lashes, and a faint splatter of freckles on his nose which I have never noticed, probably because in clips and pictures it's always either covered with make-up or retouched. Up close, his features are softer than they look on TV or in photos. Boyish, delicate. Not exactly what I would call hot or extremely handsome; looking at him in person, the only word that comes to mind to describe him is pretty.

"Did... Did Kelly show you around the house already?" he finally manages to say.

"No, I didn't," Kelly cuts in. "I only showed him to his room and told him he can take a look at the other rooms on his own. I hope that's alright?"

Lowe shrugs. "Sure, I don't mind." He looks down at his Rolex and then up at me again. "I'm sorry I don't have more time to show you everything. I have to go to a meeting with this one rapper who I'm supposed to work on a song for his new record with..." he rambles. "Uh... There really are no set rules around here. You can do whatever you want, watch TV or something, I don't know, it's all pretty self-explanatory. If you're hungry, you can cook something for yourself with the stuff around the house or just grab something from the fridge. Oh, just don't touch Naira's food unless you have a death wish. There are a bunch of containers with leftovers in the fridge, those are hers."

"I'll try to remember that. Will I get to meet her?" I ask. It's already the second time that her name has been mentioned, but no one has bothered explaining who she is. Sister, cousin, friend? Girlfriend? Who knows.

He shrugs again. "Probably, yeah. She's working a shift at the hospital right now, but she should come home later this afternoon. I'm sure you'll get along well." He sneaks another look at his watch. "Sorry, but I really have to go now. You can call Kelly if you need anything, or ask Naira once she's here. I'll see you later."

He shoots me one of his on-camera-smiles, polite and annoyingly aloof, then he turns around and rushes out the front door, leaving behind nothing but the scent of his cologne.

+++++++++++++++++++

The moment we've all been waiting for has finally arrived: Eli is finally in L.A. and has met Nathan. It was only a short encounter, but don't worry, obviously there's much more to come :)

Hopefully you liked this chapter! Was this how you imagined their first meeting to go? And what do you think Eli is going to do now that he has the entire house to his own? I'd love to hear your ideas!