AN:  I'm mourning Buffy.  All that is Vampire related, ie this story, will probably 
benefit.  

Please, please, please let me know how this story's coming by sending in some 
feedback.  inspiredthoughts@hotmail.com  Those that always do, ya'll know how cool 
I think ya'll are. =)
  

********************* Curiosity Killed... Chapter Eleven ********************



"Okay, so, what's the plan for the evening?"

I roll my eyes, grumpy, at Kevin's condescending tone and slump low on the sofa in his 
suite, glowering from beneath ash blonde bangs with an angry chocolate glare.  "Its not 
hard Richardson.  I may not be a brain surgeon but I can remember simple instructions."  

He growls and kneels in a swift fluid movement so that's he's before me, large, warm 
hands gripping my knees, his face just a bit too close for comfort.  It wouldn't be if 
I wasn't so damn short.  

"Humor me," he says with a firm warning squeeze on my legs that will probably leave 
bruises.  Stupid Vampire strength.  

"Always," I snap, annoyed.  "You have a bit of blood at the corner of your mouth," I 
drawl, lengthening my barely noticeable Texas slang.  Kevin's face blanks with 
something near to panic and he goes to wipe his mouth with his hand immediately, 
disgust plain on his features. 

I ruin it by giggling.  His hand stills, inches from his face, and drops back to my 
knee.  Goody.

"I don't have blood on my face, do I?"  

"Is that a rhetorical question?" I ask cheerily and he growls again, this time lower 
and definitely more threatening.  I wiggle my brows, having fun as I bug the all 
mighty Kevin Richardson.  "You're almost cute when you get frantic."  I flick his 
surprised nose with my index finger, grinning widely.  "You can always tell a new 
bloodsucker.  They still wash their mouths after meals."  My brow furrows a little.  
"Well, not that I'm complaining because dried blood in a goatee, not an attractive 
fashion statement but..."

"Do you ever cease your chattering?" he demands, angry in place of me, green eyes 
flashing black for a moment as gleaming fangs lower to visibility with his annoyance.  

"Not when its pissing off my oh so pretentious captor."  

"I'm not pretentious," he grinds out through clenched teeth.  

I snort.  "How about prick then?  I can limit my vocabulary if it suites you 
though I warn you fairly, I'm vulgar enough with the SAT words."  

"You're insufferable."  

"And a bitch," I add with a wink that surprises even me.  Why, I do believe I'm 
being saucy.  Imagine that.  I watch, interested, as Kevin's lips silently count 
to ten.  Twice.  I seem to have that kind of effect on him, a lot.

"All right," he finally says with a deep breath, "humor me, cut the sarcasm, and 
slowly go through the procedure for tonight's concert.  Now."  

"Ohh, a command, I'm giddy already."  His fingers tighten their hold noticeably 
on my knees and I wince.  Hello bruises.  Say goodbye to circulation.  

"All right!" I squeak as I shift, trying to relieve the pressure of his nails 
digging through my thin pajama pants.  He waits for a moment and with one last 
dig, carefully releases his iron grip for a more relaxed one, though no less 
restraining.  I'm not going anywhere without his say so.  

Bastard.

"Okay, okay... Ya'll are leaving for the venue in half an hour.  I get to go 
with ya'll because you don't trust me to play nice by myself which means I have 
to go get all fancy for Your Royal Assness.  Then I get to sit on my butt and 
twiddle my thumbs until show time where I will be lead to a section that's 
reserved for family and friends so all the babies can ogle me.  My jailer for 
the evening will be the lovely Billy who is under strict orders to keep me in 
line.  Any funny business and he'll get angry which is exactly the response I'm 
seeking in a seven foot tall mind witched bodyguard."

"Anything else?" Kevin demands.  

I sigh, deeply.  "I don't talk to anyone unless directly spoken to.  I'm then 
allowed to answer in as few words as possible, smiling through my teeth all the 
while.  Does that cover everything?  Am I properly programmed?"  

"Only if you come with a Mute button."  

I groan.  "And people say I'M a smart-ass."

****************************************************************************

Forty-five minutes later and I'm standing with an irate Kevin Richardson in an 
elevator, primped and primed to apparent perfection, or as close as I get.  "We're 
late," he mutters for what has got to be the millionth time and I snort.  

"We wouldn't have been if you hadn't made me put mascara on."  

"How hard could it have been Catherine, I'VE worn the damn stuff before!"  

I stick my tongue out at him as I self-consciously twirl a lock of shoulder 
length hair and smooth my knee length skirt, which conveniently covers various 
bruises and the lovely slash on my thigh.  I don't wear skirts, ever.  I don't 
even think I owned a skirt until AJ dragged me shopping today.  I now own more 
than I ever wanted to.  And evil Kevin is probably going to make me wear them all.  

You'd think a grown Vampire killer could be trusted to dress herself but no, 
after our little talk Kevin followed me to my room, picked out my outfit, and 
proceeded to hover while I attempted to clumsily apply some newly bought cosmetics.  

Kevin had to explain what the eyelash curler was.  I'm not sure who should be more 
embarrassed by that.  I'll let ya'll know.          

I squint and try to see myself clearly in the warped reflection of the elevator 
wall but to no avail.  Heaven forbid Kevin Richardson might actually tell me that 
I managing to pull this whole girl thing off.  Excuse me if I just don't ooze 
confidence.  Give me a monster and I'm set.  Makeup and curlers scare the willies 
out of me.      

The elevator dings open to reveal a mostly empty lobby.  There's a fair number of 
fans lined up but no mobs, thank god.  I have mentioned my slight claustrophobia, 
haven't I?  Anyway, Kevin grabs my hand and fairly yanks me out of elevator.  The 
rest of the boys have apparently been standing around, signing autographs and 
taking pictures, and they fall in line with the help of some huge bodyguards.  

I watch, wide eyed, as I let Kevin drag me across the lobby as fans shout questions 
at me, waving pens and papers and cameras in my face.  It's a bit of a step from 
someone who was never popular in high school.  No wonder most pop stars date ex 
homecoming queens.  

We're shuffled outside and into a waiting limousine.  I end up crammed between 
Brian, which I'm more than fine with, and Kevin, who feels like a board he's so 
uptight.  We're all slightly out of breath but all the boys, well except for Kevin, 
of course, are beaming, happy for the fan interaction.  

Of course all good things must come to an end.  

"So Kevin," AJ asks as he lowers his sunglasses, comfortably crushed across the 
aisle, "Late much?"  

Kevin flips him off and I laugh.  AJ's fickle attention shifts to me and he 
whistles lewdly.  I hate that I can feel myself blushing brightly under the curious 
attention of well, the Backstreet Boys.  Its times like this when its easy to forget 
there's more than international pop stars, they're Vampires too.  That's not a good 
thing to forget.  Nope, not at all.  "Well who knew there was a girl under all that 
sass?" 

"We wouldn't have been late if the girl knew how to dress herself properly."  

AJ's eyes trail appreciatively from my bare legs to hover suspiciously at chest level.  
"If it takes fifteen minutes to manage that then be late more often Kev."  

"It took forty five.  We were only fifteen minutes late.  Maybe next time the child 
will manage to do her make up by herself."  

I resist the urge to pinch him, barely.  "I have a name you know."  

Kevin sneers down at me from our cramped corners.  "Just because you have something, 
doesn't mean it should be used."  

I sneer back.  "Wow, I bet you hear THAT a lot."  My gaze drops down significantly to 
the crotch of his pants as his face whitens.  

I smugly watch Kevin's lips silently count to one hundred on the limo ride amidst the 
hysterical laughter of four of the Backstreet Boys.  Its good to be loved but damn, 
its better to be hated.