FOUND (2 page)

“
That doesn't make us
better.”

“
No, it gives us an
advantage.”

“
Maya!”

She giggled maniacally. I had to
laugh along with her because she had a point. We were nothing like
the shifter groupies who lined up night after night outside of
celebrity clubs attempting to get a taste of the high life beyond
the crimson doors. I've watched these celebrity followings pop up
over the last couple of years and reach alarming levels of
obsession. One girl had a shifter's name tattooed on her neck where
she said he'd “forever suckle.” It was appalling what people did to
attract attention. The shifters were no better. They devoured the
adulation they received from groupies and fans. Any time bouncers
allowed outsiders into their parties, they treated them like pets.
It was absolutely disgusting to watch. I didn't want to go. It made
me cringe to see people being used like that, but Maya was right.
I've been trapped in my apartment every night for a week, and only
left once to get dinner from the Chinese restaurant up the
block.

“
Fine. I'll go under one
condition.” It was my turn to pause for dramatic effect.

Maya sighed and groaned,
“
Whaaat
?”

“
Don't try hooking me up with
anybody again. The last one was embarrassing.”

“
It's not my fault you can't
socialize.”

“
He was a total d-bag,
Maya.”

“
Yeah, you're
right.
He
was. I'm sorry.” She took a deep breath. “Alright, the only
hooking up I'll be doing for you will be with some flirty martinis.
Deal?”

“
Deal.”

“
I'll see you at eight! Wear
something sparkly. I want us all to match.”

“
Maya, that's gross.”

“
You know you like
sparkles.”

“
Yeah, I love sparkles.”

“
Then, it's settled!”

And with that, we got off the
phone.

This was going to be a long
night.

The club was packed tight with
celebrity bodies and groupies alike who were just oozing with
desperation and sexual excitement. I scanned the sea of faces and
shiny clothing for familiar features, but only found strangers
wearing Versace and Dior. Maya pulled my arm and
pointed.

“
Look, there's Zack Rider!” She
exclaimed over the boom of the bass.

I followed her finger across
the dimly lit room to the bar where Zack Rider was leaning against
the counter, his 4.6 million dollar Louis Moinet Meteoris
watch
glimmering
in the light shining from above. It was as if the spotlight was on
him. I shook my head and turned my attention back to the rest of
the club. Greens, blues, and reds exploded all over the dance floor
in a visual spectacle that could have easily given someone seizure.
We fought through the mess of bodies to the bar where we each
ordered a
beer
and then sat at a table nearby that was decorated
with
confetti.
My eyes trailed back over to Zack.

“
You should go talk to him.” Maya
prodded me with her elbow. “He looks a little lonely.”

“
I'm pretty sure
that group of
fangirls
behind him will take care of that.” I nodded in
the direction of three tall women wearing knock-off Gucci dresses
who were excitedly chatting into each other's
ears.

Maya snorted loudly and said,
“They don't have a chance. You're far more interesting. You're also
not trying too hard to look rich when you're not.”

I laughed at her comment and
sipped my beer. Zack Rider was such a spoiled child. He kept
flashing his watch any time he raised his hand to run his fingers
through his hair and he nodded nonchalantly every so often at
people who waved excitedly in his direction. I was willing to bet
that he only came for the praise and glory. He didn't need to turn
up to these things to promote his ridiculously produced sexist
garbage - simply having his name tied to anything seemed to
guarantee instant success with the Hollywood
'it-crowd.'
Which movie had
he made again? Another steamy romance flick where the lead male
shows the lead female that he can fix all of her problems with the
wave of his hand? It was likely the same overly-used Hollywood plot
that involved something along those lines. There was no
individuality anymore. Jobs like mine were slowly becoming obsolete
because the public didn't crave uniqueness. They wanted unity
through uniformity, a name brand flock that they could cling to
because they had no idea how to be real.

“
I bet I could catch his
attention.” Maya interrupted my thought process. I hadn't noticed
half my beer was gone by the time I came back to consciousness. I
swirled the rest at the bottom of the bottle.

“
I bet you could.” I poked her
shoulder in a flirty manner. “You're hot, girl. Go work
it.”

With that, she stood and angled
her way through the crowd to the bar where she gracefully placed
herself near Zack, just close enough to get his attention without
seeming too interested. She clicked her heels against the waxed
marble floor and acted bored, shouting to the bartender for another
drink and leaning back so her dress sparkled in the light from
above the bar. Zack regarded her with little to no interest, likely
because she looked gaudy trying to show off. I looked back down at
my beer as Maya's attempted mating dance was becoming embarrassing
to watch. When I looked up again, I locked eyes with
Zack.

They were a cold blue, like
icicles lining the inside of a cave in winter. Yet there was
somehow a warmth to them at the same time, the deep blue of the
ocean, maybe even of the marble floors we now stood upon, and they
were piercing right through my skull as if to analyze every bit of
my being. They were so wolf-like. I hadn't realized a shifter could
embody so much of his animal form in just a gaze. They held me in a
bond briefly until I broke away to scan the rest of the lousy club
and its hedonistic inhabitants, willing myself not to blush. I
admired a particularly elegant
ballroom style
gown until I noticed the
cackling woman wearing it. Her million dollar porcelain smile
didn't match the rest of her body and appeared plastic compared to
her face. I grimaced.

Just out of my peripheral
vision, I noticed a figure approach.
He
cleared
his
throat.

“
May I sit with you?” He
asked.

I turned to respond with something
incredibly snarky until I realized it was Zack. My face flushed
with embarrassment.

“
Oh,
sure,
” I
responded quickly, turning my attention down to my beer that was
now empty.

“
You looked a bit lonely over
here,” He smoothed his hair behind his ear. “And it was getting so
crowded at the bar. I seem to have a following.”

His eyes were totally
focused on me. He didn't look around to scan the crowd or to search
for friends. In fact, he didn't seem very interested
in
anyone else
in the club. As of now, his focus was mine. Those blue arrows stung
my skin like the rays of a harsh, midday sun. They penetrated every
bit of my body right down to the particles until I was completely
stripped bare – but they never wandered below my neck. He never
broke eye contact even when I looked away. Now, I was
captivated.

“
You don't seem
totally
preoccupied by
me.” He said.

I met his gaze with confidence and
said, “Not at all. I don't find your work that
impressive.”

He met my comment with a raised
brow and an inquisitive nod.

“
Well, I'm quite relieved. I don't
think I could possibly handle another woman fawning over my work
just to get into my good graces.” He smiled sweetly. “I know the
guy who owns this place. It's why my party is being hosted here. He
actually gave me this watch.”

Our eye-lock finally broke when he
looked down at his wrist, shook it with a look of fondness, and
then readjusted it to a more comfortable setting.

“
I would have felt bad appearing
without wearing it, but it's not typically my style. It's sort of
flashy, no?” He held it up for me to look over.

Bravely, and against all inner
intuition, I reached across the table to outline the edge of the
watch with my finger. I tapped the glass with my nail.

“
You could have fed an entire world
with this watch.” I shrugged. “But morality first: don't offend
anyone. Right?”

Zack met my gaze again with a
teasing smile before saying, “You are no ordinary LA woman, are
you? You care more about what's out there than what's in here.
What's your name?”

“
Skylar Jones. I'm a
screenwriter.”

He shook my hand.

“
It's lovely to meet you, Skylar
Jones.”

Oh ya, my name sounded much better
coming out of his mouth.

I giggled, against my
better
judgment
, and held his
gaze
this time, feeling much more confident than when
he'd sat down.

“
The world needs change, Mr. Rider.
I think that change has to start in big places like Hollywood.
Don't you think so?” I wanted to challenge his way of thinking to
see if he was more intelligent than his flashy suit.

“
Please, call me Zack. And I think
that's a noble cause. I completely agree. People are so preoccupied
with image and they could use an awakening.”

He placed his hand gently over
mine as we continued to chatter on about the status of Hollywood
and currently existing inequalities. I explained my situation with
my screenwriting and how I felt that no one was taking me seriously
as an artist. He apologized, saying that many executive producers
who were shifters simply weren't interested in changing the status
quo. Their focus was on the money that could be shoveled in and the
potential groupies that it would bring.

“
Everything is about sex and money,
and how to market that to the rest of the world so it becomes
normal.” I couldn't break away from his eyes. I was being sucked in
further with every bit of our conversation.

“
Indeed. If we invested more into
our female compatriots, we could see such a bigger shift in public
thinking. Compassion, harmony, civility, and acceptance would be
ingrained instead of greed and body shame.” His intelligence was
surprising.

“
I don't get it.” I shook my head
and laughed. “You're so culturally aware and informed. How is it
you seem so...so…?”

“
Aloof? Dull?”

I nodded, almost embarrassed to
admit that earlier I'd considered him a spoiled brat.

“
Yes...I'm sorry.
I don't
mean
to imply you're not educated. You just don't act like you
agree with these things.” I curled my fingers around his hand that
was still resting over mine.

“
You don't have to be sorry for
your opinion. You just have to be sorry that you were wrong.” He
teased.

As I gaped at him, my eyes wide,
he threw his head back in an uncontrollable yet surprisingly
charming laugh and squeezed my hand.

I instinctively swatted his hand
away.

“
Oh, darling! I hadn't meant to
offend.”

“
Sorry – habit,” I said
sheepishly.

His wolf-life eyes were
sparkling from across the
table
as if the unexpected chemistry
igniting between us was inspiring his wildness to shine through. I
hadn't noticed how much closer we had been sitting, that the entire
club was basically watching us whether they made it known or not. I
briefly glanced around. A group of girls was beginning to gather
near the table. They weren't blatantly surrounding us, and they
grew uncomfortably close. Zack noticed the shift in my
energy.

“
Would you like to escape the
inevitable carnage that is about to ensue if we continue sitting
here, enjoying each other's company?”

I paused and then responded, “Uh.
Yeah, sure.”

We rose from our seats to be met
by a ferocious crowd who tried piling around Zack in an attempt to
get his attention. I felt like an anchovy being shoved around until
I felt Zack tug my arm in a different direction. We dodged between
dancing drunk bodies and found our way to the back door where I
caught Maya ogling us in shock, eyes wider than saucers and mouth
hanging agape. I shrugged and waved, unsure of how to respond. I
hoped she wasn't upset that I was leaving without her. The bouncer
smuggled us out the back door and into a hidden alley so we could
avoid the crowds and
nosy
paparazzi that were waiting for us out front.
Victorious, we ran hand-in-hand down the wet alley towards his car
that was parked conveniently a few blocks down. Once we were snug
in our seats, Zack sped us off into the dark night, his contagious
laughter filling the air behind us.