Who: Ian Evans & Adelaide Morgan What: Chance Meeting When: Monday Afternoon (backdated) Rating: R - suggestive thoughts Status: JP || Complete
It was Monday.
If that wasn't bad enough, it was also a rainy Monday; the sort of wet, dreary start to a week that was only made worse when one was driving in Hollywood. In this sort of cold rain, even Hollywood didn't look glitzy. The palm trees seemed to lurk over the boulevards, the studios to loom behind their secure gates. It was unpleasant, and Ian - safe and warm in his nice little Audi - pitied anyone who was stuck outside in this sort of weather. Ian, however, wasn't having a bad Monday, not at all; rather, he was allowing his mind to drift to places he knew it shouldn't - even in the safety of his own car. Because there was Adelaide, and she'd been forefront in his mind all weekend.
Adelaide, who'd scrubbed down the showers on Saturday and assisted in the kitchen for dinner, who'd helped pass the offering plate during Sunday services at the Shelter, who'd smiled at him and thanked him so kindly. Adelaide, in her cute little boy-shorts pajama outfit and her sweet ringlets. Adelaide, who trusted him, who confided in him, who offered to help him with his paperwork and answer phones at Shooting Stars. Adelaide and her innocent, accidental flirting. Adelaide, who looked so sweet with tears on her cheeks, who he wanted, more than anything, to help, to protect and keep safe and sweet forever.
Adelaide, who was...on the sidewalk in the rain? He passed her, and drew up to the curb just before her, studying his rear-view to be absolutely sure. Yes, it was Addy, and she looked absolutely miserable, huddling under a magazine as she hurried down the street. So of course he rolled down the window, beeped his horn to catch her attention. "Addy!" He called, to confirm that he wasn't just some creep honking at her in the rain - he was a creep someone she knew. Hopefully, she'd recognize his voice. "Do you want a ride?" For her part, Adelaide wasn't having such a lovely Monday. Not only did she not have the benefit of a warm, safe car to protect her from the rain, but the magazine that she did have was already soggy. This meant, of course, that everything else was also soggy. Her ringlets were well on their way to being not just damp but outright wet. Her blouse was starting to cling uncomfortably, and her skirt was wet but conservative enough to protect her from any especially embarrassing situations. Her low heels, however, weren't nearly enough to keep her feet from getting wet.
It was not the day for trying to make her way in the world. She'd ventured out despite the gloomy morning, intent on not letting anything stop her - but one go-see later, it had started pouring. Bad hair and wet clothes were the kryptonite of pretty actresses everywhere. Adelaide had staged a retreat, and wanted little more than to get back to Shooting Stars. There she could change her clothes, get warm, make herself useful - again. It was so easy to ingratiate herself to these people, to impress them with her willingness to give back and work hard for her keep. They would think of her as a sweet, grateful girl who had never slouched or slacked - and later, someone impressive would interview them all for her biography.
Daydreaming about that was the only thing that kept her mood from turning absolutely foul - and it was interrupted by the sharp beep of a horn from just behind her. It wasn't the first one, and Adelaide spun to glare at the offending car. But there was Ian, and his familiar voice, and her offended look melted into a dazzlingly bright smile. Her hesitation gone, she met him at the driver's side window.
The look of longing she shot toward the car was carefully scripted, as well as the pretty knitting of her brow. "Ian - I thought it was.. nevermind. It's so sweet of you, but.. I'm wet, and your seat would.." There was the barest, almost imperceptible flick of his eyes to the clinging fabric of her wet shirt while she spoke, before he was shaking his head in a way that was almost impatient. She was sweet, thoughtful, kind - and she was being silly. "Seats dry. They're heated - they will, in fact, dry quickly. But the longer you stay in the rain, the longer you are wet and cold." If she hesitated any longer, the expression on his face would become playful, brows rising as he shrugged. "But if you'd rather walk, I mean, I understand. I hear it's good exercise and whatnot." By that time, if she wasn't in the car, he would have pulled away just a little bit...but by that time, only someone truly depraved (or possibly dedicated) would still be on the sidewalk, especially with the warmth of the car's interior wafting against one's face.
As he rolled up his window, he flicked on the switch that would turn on the heating for the seat she was now in. "Seat belts," he reminded automatically as he once again merged into the flow of traffic. The only difference was, of course, that the object of his earlier daydreams was now sitting next to him. True to the nature of a man who'd spent a lifetime repressing and hiding such things, there was no trace of tension in his body as his mind carefully shut away the thoughts he'd been entertaining just seconds before he'd spotted her. "You know," he said, eyes remaining focused on the road, "If you'd asked, I would have given you a ride. Nobody should be out walking in the rain." Especially not you, his mind supplied, but he chose not to vocalize that particular comment. "Are you heading back to the Inn, or do I need to take you somewhere else?" There was a beat of hesitation even after he'd assured her that the seats would dry - but his teasing made her laugh, and she held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! I give - I don't think I can handle wet shoes for much longer." Still giggling, she discarded her magazine in a nearby trashcan and then found her way over to the other side of his vehicle (a very nice vehicle, if understated. It was fitting for Ian) to slip inside. There wasn't much acting to be done to convey her relief - the Audi was warm and dry, and much more pleasant than being out in the rain.
Obediently - and almost before he reminded her - she buckled herself into the seat and settled in. Ian coming upon her was a fluke, but a very fortuitous fluke. She'd seen the way he'd glanced at her all weekend, and gone out of her way to remain on his radar. Scrubbing the showers had been worth it, if only because he'd laughingly helped her out of her ridiculous rubber gloves. Helping with dinner meant that she'd served him his meal herself. Sunday Service, she'd thanked him personally for his donation - and then asserted in a murmur later, only for his ears, that he already gave so much of himself...
"You're a busy man, Ian," she demurred, always sweet and thoughtful. "I could never ask you to do something so silly. And it wasn't raining when I left this morning." Although it had been excruciatingly early. Ugh. "As much as I hate wasting a day, I don't think looking like a drowned rat will make anyone want to hire me. I was checking out a couple restaurants, to see if they needed servers, but..." There it was again, her somewhat self-conscious smile. "I think that should probably wait. My chances are already slim." Honestly, sometimes little miss Adelaide seemed almost too good to be true. In his more lucid moments, Ian ascribed her consistent kindness and naivete to a combination of a strict Christian upbringing and the fact that she'd found Shooting Stars almost the very same day that she'd arrived in L.A. Luck had kept her pure, luck and a little bit of skill. After seeing her persistence and watching the way she worked in the Inn, Ian had an idea that there was a very intelligent girl hiding somewhere in the perky person that was the girl he knew. If she wasn't already capable of manipulation, he was sure she'd catch on quickly to just how far her innate, natural sweetness would get her. If it weren't for the fact that never, not even in their most private interactions (like her swinging by his office to bring him dinner) did it ever slip, he might have thought that it was an act. Maybe.
By the same token, the concept of Adelaide even being capable of such a level of falsehood was, well, laughable. There was something genuine about her, a light in her smile that belied any amount of candy-coated fakery. She really did believe that God was good, that He would provide, that a positive attitude could overcome insurmountable odds. It was adorable, really. And it was why he was doing his best to keep the grungier side of Hollywood hidden from her virgin eyes. He'd suggested restaurants as opposed to agents, scripting instead of acting. Because to be an actress was to be a vicious bitch, at least off-camera - and his sweet Adelaide wasn't capable of such ferocity. Was she? "Never too busy to help out a friend," was the laughing answer he provided, and he shook his head. "Better you safe and warm than sick and cold. Regardless, I'm heading to the Inn, anyway. The trunk is loaded with canned goods, and I've got a peer mentoring appointment in..." he glanced briefly at the clock, "An hour and a half. Can't be late."
Her final words drew a frown across his face. "You shouldn't say things like that." He murmured, eyes sliding away from the road long enough to look at her, gaze tracing the shape of her face, the curve of her nose, taking in the way her hair hung around her face. The red light he pulled up to afforded him a moment longer to study her, and he reached across the seat, to cup her jaw and tilt it ever-so-slightly. "You're a very pretty girl. Even in comparison to all that Hollywood has to offer...you're still an exceptionally pretty girl." As his hand fell away, a smile lit briefly on his lips. "A shining star, if that's not too cheesy for you."
Then the light was changing, and they were moving again. From where they were, the Inn was only a short ten-minute drive, if traffic wasn't too bad. "I think you'll do just fine. Besides, there's no rush. You're welcome to store your things at the Inn for as long as you need to." It would be another broken rule, if it lasted too terribly long - the Inn wasn't supposed to be a permanent residence, it was supposed to be a transitional place, and the concept of somebody having a personal locker for more than six weeks was laughable. Nevermind that she was a runaway, and that several volunteers had questioned him about what was taking so long with social services and contacting her family. They were worried, they'd said. All of them.
"Adelaide," He began, a thoughtful expression on his face, "What would your parents do if they knew where you were?" The drop in his voice, the fact that he reached out to touch her where he shouldn't have - these were tugs on the line. Adelaide basked in the sensation of what she considered to be Ian wriggling on her hook. The boy she'd left behind in Utah, broken-hearted, sexually frustrated and missing all his hard-earned money hadn't been as interesting as Ian - the older man was just... better. More promising. Manipulating him took effort. More than that, it required more than just an act. A little boy might have been foolish enough to fall prey to a few accepting-but-not-returned kisses and the promise of a life of glitz and glamor with the blonde he wanted... but Ian wasn't stupid.
It made him intriguing, as well as a good mark. The fact that sometimes she caught him looking at her intently, as if he were waiting for her facade to crack? It was... sort of heady, actually. She always met those looks with a vaguely confused little smile - as if she couldn't fathom what he might be thinking about, looking at her like that. It was almost a game, and at the same time not a game at all. He forced her to throw a healthy dash of realism in with the BS she was selling - for a little while, she had to believe her own hype. This meant keeping her mocking internal monologue quiet, not entertaining even a fraction of the sarcastic thoughts she normally would have. Playing at being a nice girl wasn't enough. Ian forced her to be a nice girl, just by not being an idiot.
And in genuine nice-girl fashion, she lifted her eyes almost hesitantly when he cupped her jaw in his fingers. That look was still there, as if she might have been seeing him with a lance and a white steed - the soft eyes and parted lips of a girl with a crush. At least the girl seemed bright enough to know that she shouldn't, because she flushed and looked away at his compliment, her smile turning embarrassed. "I - that's pretty cheesy," she managed, reaching up to brush her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ears. "I just meant that these places don't seem too eager to hire anyone that isn't 21. I wouldn't be altogether thrilled with serving drinks anyway, but... a liquor license seems to be more or less a requirement in this town."
His reassurance that she had a place at the Inn was a little soothing. It was certainly one of her more comfortable options, even if a couple of the volunteers had remarked that she'd been there longer than they expected. Shooting Stars was Ian's place. If he said she didn't have to go, then she didn't - that would be that. She was almost sure.
At least until he brought up her parents. Adelaide's reaction to that was genuine. Her head came up, brows furrowing together in alarm - and then she looked away again, out the window for a long moment before she answered. "I'm not sure. Send for me, maybe. Or come and get me. They..." She hesitated, thinking honestly about their reaction. Her father would be furious. Her mother would be convinced that she'd fallen into sin and debauchery. It would be... extremely unpleasant. "They would be very angry," the little blonde settled on finally, tellingly quiet. The amount of time that Ian had spent in close quarters with Adelaide in the past few days was enough to convince him, at the very least, that she really was a nice girl. She had him believing the act as much was possible. The fact that she'd convinced him that he was, indeed, her rescuer - which was just fine with him. 'Rescuer' was a safe thing to be. It meant honor, and integrity, and the special moral code that entailed. It meant protecting her from the world, and he was more than happy to do so. Fortunately, he fit well in the niche she'd made for him - he'd proven a handful of times that he wasn't naive or altruistic enough to be taken complete advantage of; he invested his money wisely, lived in a way that bordered on spendthrift, and was constantly in contact with dozens of charities whose donations and volunteers helped to keep Shooting Stars running at minimal out-of-pocket costs to him. He was just as shrewd as was possible...for a man who was inherently nice, of course.
Her murmured notes on the various restaurants in town had him shrugging, dismissing her worries with a quick shake of his head. "You'll find something." There was a confidence in his voice that couldn't be argued with. Besides, if she couldn't find something on her own...well, Ian had connections, and he wasn't afraid of cashing in a couple favors for the sake of making sure Adelaide was taken care of. It was part of keeping her safe. As was asking about her parents. Did she want to go back? Would they make her go back? "There's no way they'd work with you to let you stay in L.A.?" A pause. "Do you want to stay in L.A.?" Because if she didn't, well, there was no point in considering any other options. Her answer was a short, sharp laugh - it would have been completely at odds with her personality, if it hadn't seemed so forced, so tense. That, too, required little acting. The thought of returning to Utah, to her parents, was not a pleasant one. When she next saw them, she wanted very much to be an established actress, well beyond their reach. "Stay? I think.. I think my parents would kill me before they let me stay here. They're.. they're very strict." Shifting uncomfortably, Adelaide fingered the hem of her skirt. It was drying nicely, but was nowhere near as interesting as it seemed to be right at that moment. "My mother would never believe that I've been good - she'd think.." Here, she faltered intentionally, tripped over something that the girl Ian knew wouldn't be able to bring herself to say.
"She would think.. awful things." "Hmmm." It was possibly the most non-committal answer he could have provided, offered in a tone that was simply thoughtful, with no lingering wonder or disappointment hidden in it. For the next few moments, they rode along in silence as Ian began to mull things over in his head. The short exchange they'd just experienced had given him at least a little bit of insight into what the future was going to bring. It brought up questions, and supplied answers to a great many of them. Was Adelaide better off being shipped back home? No. Did he want her to be? No. Would her parents let her stay in L.A.? No. Which meant that mentioning her to social services in any way, shape, form or fashion, was a bad idea.
If it were anybody but Adelaide, it wouldn't have mattered. Teenagers weren't allowed the luxury of choosing what they wanted; that was what Social Services and parents were for. But this was Adelaide...who was sadly going to become another unsolved missing persons case in the great state of Utah, if Ian had his way. After all, staying in L.A. was what she wanted, and she had him to look out for her. And girls like Adelaide, who were so relentlessly helpful and kind and positive and just all-around good, deserved to have their faith in humanity rewarded every now and again.
The problem was, of course, that she couldn't stay at the Inn for too much longer. Though it was his place, questions would eventually be asked, and someone would eventually go around him and talk to social services without his permission, which would open a can of worms that Ian was not prepared to deal with. "Addy," he said slowly, brows furrowed, "Have you told anybody at the Inn where you're from? Or your real last name?" If he had any idea what kind of turmoil that single non-committal answer he'd given her had caused, his levels of Catholic guilt would have hit a new peak. He wanted to call her parents? Talking about sending her back was.. not in her plans, to say the least. In those few moments of silence, Adelaide was forced to re-evaluate her strategy for staying in the city. If the shelter was not an option, there were others - places that she could crash, at least temporarily, things she could do. They were unsavory, even when viewed from her detached perspective - but she could do them.
And if she begged, Ian might just keep his mouth shut. She wasn't above tears and pleading. In fact, she was working herself up for just this - if the next words out of his mouth were what she thought they would be, she could break down believably then and there. And by the next day, she could be out of his hair. Goddammit. Had she really been wrong? Was she slipping?
Her eyes came up when he said her name, wary and concerned. "My..? No," she answered, almost hesitantly. "Just you. Ian, please - you promised, you said I didn't have to be anywhere I didn't want to be. Don't call them. I can.. I can go, if you want - I don't want to get you into trouble, but.." The words tumbled out, a little rushed but not hysterical. "Please..." It didn't matter the inner turmoil he'd arisen in Adelaide. A little bit of worry was worth the chance for silence that lasted long enough for him to think things through. Different possibilities of where she could go, where she could stay - provided nobody but him knew who she really was. It was that innermost thought process that made her protests pick at his irritation. So his answer to her near-hysterics was very nearly snapped: "Quiet, Addy. I'm thinking."
With silence came him mulling over various ideas. Like the possibility of her flitting from shelter to shelter for awhile. Hell, there were plenty of people who did that; Sev did that, she'd been doing that for years. But he didn't like to think of his Adelaide living the way people like Sev to, from meal to meal and dollar to dollar, so that idea was quickly tossed out the window. Or he could set her up with an apartment, pay her rent until she got a job - but she was young, and that would mean her being out of his protective sight for long, extended periods. There were always his spare bedrooms...hell, his house was huge. It was one of the few areas in his life where he showed very little moderation, and he had at least three bedrooms that weren't doing anything but collecting dust.
But then there was the matter of what was and wasn't appropriate. Nobody could ever know, for example, that Mr. Evans had taken in a stray, least of all one that was underage. It would circle back to the same can of worms that someone else contacting social services would. There were things that simply could not happen. "Don't tell anyone else." He spoke carefully, clearly, ensuring that he was understood. "Be from somewhere not the Midwest. New York, Massachusetts, Georgia. And for the love of God above," he eased his car off the street and into the parking lot behind the shelter, "Don't talk to anyone about your family, where you're from. If anyone asks, you've already talked to a social worker." Now the car was parked, and his hand lingered in the key. Once the road was no longer a concern, he turned his gaze back to her. His ward. He would find a way to protect her. "Understand?" His snappish response parted her lips in surprise - but it also silenced her. Where she'd been withdrawn and staring out the window, though, this time she kept her eyes on Ian while he turned things over in his head. No, she hadn't been wrong. His brooding was enough to tell her that. If he'd intended to turn her back over to her parents, his reaction would have been different - mindless soothing, maybe, or a lecture on how teenage girls didn't get to choose things for themselves. Either of these would have been appropriate, logical reactions.
But neither of them came, and Adelaide waited in anxious silence for him to make some kind of decision. When he finally did, she listened to him as intently as he ever could have hoped - and again, there was very little acting required on her part. Her relief was apparent, and she nodded obediently to the idea of not disclosing the name she'd left behind in Utah. Mentioning it to Ian had been a carefully calculated risk - for everyone else, Adelaide Morgan worked just fine. And how hard was it to be from somewhere that wasn't Utah? Not that hard. She'd spent her whole life wishing she was from somewhere else, after all.
"Of course, I.. I understand," she agreed, tempted to ask what he'd sorted out. But she could be patient - Ian would tell her, she had no further doubt. He wasn't going to send her back, or even out her to social services. Unbuckling from the seat, Adelaide hesitated for just a second - and then leaned over, impulsively wrapping her arms around his neck. For a moment she was pressed against him, warm and soft with her face against his shoulder. The next second, her lips were on his cheek, close to his ear. "Ian, I don't know how to ever.. you're my hero." Her agreement elicited a numb sort of nod from him. He'd been all sorts of prepared to field any questions she shot at him about what he'd been thinking, deflections that would have amounted to, We will discuss this later. But for the most part, Ian was simply wrapped up in his own thoughts, working his way through the puzzle that had come from Adelaide stepping into his life. There was, of course, a small part of him that insisted that this was a bad idea, that he shouldn't go this far for anyone, let alone a little lost teenage runaway - but for the most part, he was doing a pretty good job of locking away that little voice of protest right alongside his darker desires. This was him doing something good. Something extraordinarily good. And so that voice stayed locked away when he needed it to be. That is, until Adelaide's arms were around him.
It was the first time his calm exterior had ever seriously slipped around her. Very suddenly, he went from cool and controlled to on the verge of losing it. He wanted to turn and catch her lips with his, wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her until he was dizzy with the taste of her mouth. It was evident in the way his body was suddenly tense against her, beneath her - but it wasn't the tension of someone shrinking away. Rather, it was barely contained restraint. That little voice was suddenly downright screaming in his ear, but it was very nearly drowned out by the shivery sensation of someone evoking desires and emotions in him that should have never come into play.
He wanted her. God, he wanted her. He wanted to love her in every way possible, wanted to kiss away her fears and explore her in ways she'd never been explored. He wanted to be her hero, her knight in shining armor, her prince. Hers. He wanted to be hers.
When he spoke, his words sounded distant and impossible to his ears. "Whatever it takes to keep you safe." Then he was reaching up to carefully untangle her arms from around him, to ease her carefully back into her seat. Because there were lines that could not be crossed. There were things that he could not do. He could love her in a thousand ways - but they would be chaste, pure. So he would do the best he could; he would fight to keep her sweet and bright. To keep her sacred. Safe. Adelaide. "Anything. For you, Adelaide." And a truer statement could not have been spoken. When he tensed against her, Adelaide's breath caught - just for a moment, the barest little hitch. She had him. Just like that, and she knew it. He wasn't shrinking away, and for a few seconds she entertained the idea of pushing things further. If she turned her head, after all, and met his eyes right then... it was tempting. Ian Evans, the good man, the upstanding citizen, the friend to the downtrodden.. falling all over a teenage girl in the backseat of his car? It was a deliciously dark thought, and one that Addy abandoned with some sense of loss.
Yes, it would have been immensely satisfying to hold that kind of power. But it wouldn't have served either of them to be caught, and the Audi wasn't exactly a highly private vehicle. So instead of turning her head, instead of enticing him with her lips, she kept her head tipped chastely against his until he shifted her away with his own hands.
"I'm safe when I'm with you," she murmured, and then allowed herself to be shifted slowly back into her seat. The look that she gave him was.. perfect. It was young and puzzled and longing - that of a girl caught between a fantasy crush and real want. It acknowledged the tension that had passed between them, and then she dropped her eyes shyly away. If she was dealing with a dizzying rush of power and triumph on the inside, her outward demeanor gave no indication of it at all. "We should.. I should help you unload those cans," she suggested. Even if there had been a momentary glimpse of the shrewd woman that lurked under that nice-girl facade, Ian wouldn't have noticed it. There were too many things he was struggling with, too many suddenly conflicting emotions he was trying desperately to wrest in place. It was years of practice that allowed him to continue functioning as normal. Sliding into the nice-guy appearance he'd made for himself was like pulling on a glove. It just fit. By the time she was safely out of his lap and back in her own seat, all traces of what had just transpired were erased from his exterior, hidden away as though nothing had happened. A less intelligent girl might wonder if she was deluding herself with thinking that the owner of the shelter wanted anything less than her genuine happiness. Because Ian was an actor, too, though his facade had been worn so long that it now felt like his own skin.
"Of course you are." He said, and meant it. I will never force on you anything you do not want. I will never hurt you. You will always be safe with me. The silent vows he made went a long way towards calming down the turmoil that her simple touch had sparked within him, which meant the grateful smile he flashed her in response to her helpful offer was damn near genuine. It looked the part, at least. "That'd be great, Addy. You carry the umbrella, I'll carry the cans."
As he slid out of the warm comfort of his car and into the rain, he drew in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Above all else, he would keep her safe.